Home
by BrokenKestral
Summary: VOTD from Lucy's perspective, where Lucy comes to understand what home means for a traveling queen.
1. 1: Loss and Dreams

Disclaimer: Narnia is not my creation nor my home, but a story I have given my heart to. I do not own it.

A/N: Anonymousme requested I continue _Meeting the Legends_ through VODT. I had to wait a few weeks to find a theme, since what I'm doing is just taking one thread and following it through Lewis's tapestry, seeing how it adds to and completes the pattern. Like a critical essay, but much more fun. As such, this will be like the second part of Meeting the Legends, often taking things word-for-word from Lewis's book, teasing out a new theme I found. I am intending to go through the book. However, this will probably be more about Lucy, and perhaps Edmund, than Caspian. I'm sorry if that disappoints. Also, I should be updating this at the rate of about one chapter a week, but the day of the week may vary, as life keeps upsetting whatever schedule I try to organise it with.

OOOOO

"You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart will always be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place." Miriam Adeney

Chapter One: Dreams and Losses

It was the breeze that woke her. Lucy, young queen, sat up and pushed the soft covers off, the cool stones of Cair Paravel solid, the Cair still. The curtains around her window were drawn back, the window open, and she brushed the rich, dark material with her fingers as she passed them, looking past them to the open sea. The sea that seemed nearer now than it ever had before. _Narnia_, she thought, her smile visible to the bright stars, _home_.

The curtains rustled, and her eyes opened again; she was in bed still? She sat up; the covers were just as warm, but rougher, coarser beneath her fingers, and the floor was wood, warmer than stone; the room was smaller. Had she been traveling? The curtains rustled again, and she looked to the window—open, still, as her windows always were, in whatever summer. No, wait, the books on that shelf, the familiar door, the small nightstand by her bed—this was England.

_Oh, Narnia. _They'd come back, and were learning to live here again, but with the feel of the breeze and the stillness still in her soul, she bit her lip to keep back the tears. For a moment she'd been back, and that moment was enough to make the loss real, present, all over again. _Narnia_, the word was longing, not memory tonight. _Narnia!_

She wiped her eyes, and ran her fingers over the bed-table, looking for the handkerchief. It was there, and she wiped her face again. Setting it back down, she ran her hand over the wood again. It'd been a present, her last birthday, from her father, an expensive piece he'd bought broken, and repaired, etched with carvings and more than they could afford to buy unbroken. Something precious, a reminder that here in England were family as well. And friends; Marjorie at school (1), Jane down the street, the boy at the grocers who loved to run races, who always smiled. And Mrs. Pennyfeather's baby, and a host of others. She even had her own room now, small, but completely her own. It was even in the attic, up high. Like she'd been at Cair. She sat back down suddenly on the bed, bringing up her knees and wrapping her arms around them. She loved being back with her mum, her dad, and even loved London's people-filled streets, but tonight, all she wanted was Narnia, streets that ran through woods and were filled with all kinds of creatures, and Cair Paravel with its multitude of memories, back before it became ruins. She wanted her home.

The next morning she was not well-rested, but put her hair back, dressed, and made her bed anyway. She ran her fingers over the covers once more, remember when the dryads had taken her covers out to Cair's gardens and swung them briskly in the wind. Her covers there were so pretty, woven with Narnian flowers in patterns made by the spirits of trees. She pushed her chin up. She wouldn't cry this morning. Peter, Susan, and Edmund would all wonder what was wrong, and they had enough on their minds, with trying to figure out how to help Mum and Dad, who were both working to make ends meet, and who had been talking a lot recently in low voices. Peter and Edmund tried their hardest to remember they weren't kings anymore, and couldn't command their own parents tell them whatever secrets were weighing on them, and Susan was using her best diplomatic skills to bring out a confidence, but so far nothing. They didn't need another worry.

Breakfast was good, buttered eggs and hot coffee (2), and after the year they'd had before going back to Narnia to grow accustomed to it, it tasted like home, like beginnings and sunny mornings. Lucy brightened up, and did her best to take away the shadows from her siblings, at the idea of Peter going away to study for exams (he'd promised to write, and Peter kept his promises, Lucy kept reminding herself), and from her parents, at a problem Lucy didn't know yet. She thanked her mother, spoke about her plans for the garden, and asked Susan about the new friends she'd made.

But as breakfast was nearing its end, Mum looked at Dad and he nodded.

"Lucy," her Mum began, "I'm afraid you won't be able to carry through with your plans for the garden." Lucy looked up inquiringly. "You see," her Mum added, hesitatingly, "your father's been given an opportunity."

"A good one," her Dad broke in, laying his hand on their mother's, "a lecture tour, lasting sixteen weeks."

"It'll be with several other professors," Mum added. "It could open up all kinds of opportunities. But-"

"It's in America," Dad added, tightening his hand slightly on their mother's. "And as things are, we can't afford to take all of you with us."

"I can stay with the professor," Peter put in, in his calm, helpful voice. "Shall I ask if he can take Ed and Lu as well?"

"We asked," their Mum said. Lucy's heart hurt. She looked so very tired. "It was so good for you, the time you stayed with him, but he hasn't room." Her mouth was frowning, the I'm-sorry kind of frown, as she looked at Lucy and Edmund. "We can take one child with us, the tour offers that. And we were thinking Susan would get far more out of a trip to America than the two of you (3). But we can't afford to put you up somewhere, and Harold heard about the speaking tour," Lucy nearly dropped her fork in horror but remembered queens did not drop their forks and therefore didn't, "and he offered to host the two of you for the summer." Chin up, eyes level, and breathe softly when they're outrageous, Lucy ran through Susan's instructions for dining with Calormenes through her head. She glanced over; Susan looked like she didn't know what to say.

"There's no where else?" Peter asked quietly, eyes searching Dad's face. Dad shook his head.

"We just can't afford anything else." Everyone was silent.

"Well," said Edmund at last, "I guess that means no more buttered eggs for breakfast" (4).

OOOOO

(1) Marjorie is mentioned in the Magician's book, during the eavesdropping spell  
(2) Taken from _Prince Caspian_, when it mentions what Peter and Edmund were thinking of for breakfast.  
(3) Quoted from VODT  
(4) VODT only says the Scrubbs were vegetarians, not vegans, but I could see them scorning a normal English breakfast.

**LONG** A/N: I've come across several stories in fanfiction that act like the four would hate living in England once they'd been to Narnia. I'm afraid I disagree. I lived in Japan for two years; I loved it. The customs and manners of the culture seemed like home, and it was accepted by all native people who saw me that I would be weird, because I wasn't Japanese; incredibly freeing. And I walked everywhere, and had a job that wasn't work four of the five days of the week because I loved it so much. I planned on staying there 18 years, if not more. It was _home_. But things happened with family back in the States, and I came back after two years. And I miss it, some days so much when something tastes, smells, or plays out like something would in Japan, and it feels like a loss. But I still have a life _here_, where I am, with people I love; with family. And as far as I can tell from the books, Narnia was like that for the Pevensies, something they held close among the four of them and spoke of whenever they could, something they missed deeply, but not something that prevented them from living in England.


	2. 2: Not at Home

Disclaimer: I haven't the genius of Lewis, to create people so thoroughly unpleasant that they deserve names like Eustace Clarence Scrubb. I'm just playing with the people he made.

**Chapter Two**: Not at Home

Peter left the next day for the Professor's small house in the middle of nowhere, promising to write. Their parents and Susan left a week later, Susan also promising she'd send stories of what America was like. And Uncle Harold came and got Edmund and Lucy in the latest transportation, a motorcar (1). Through the long drive Lucy and Edmund listened to their uncle, who insisted on being called simply Harold, drone on in a voice as monotone as the motor about how this transportation was sure to be the way of the future. Edmund kept thinking he'd enjoy the motorcar much more if his uncle talked about it less. Lucy was trying not to cry.

She'd dreamed of Narnia again, the view from her window over the sea, almost every night up through the day Peter left. Afterwards she'd been so tired from helping her parents and sister pack that she didn't remember if she'd dreamed. She hadn't told her family, not even her siblings, about the dreams, or how much she wanted Narnia right now. Everyone was too busy, much too busy. But watching her family slowly go their separate ways, helping her mother cover all the furniture and put away all the knick-knacks like they were hiding their family history and making their home a place for ghosts, had made her long for Narnia even more. She'd almost been glad they were leaving. Until Uncle Harold—Harold—arrived. He seemed like everything Narnia wasn't, and it made her more homesick than ever.

She just wanted to go home, to go back to Narnia in the Golden Age, and walk with her siblings down to the beach again. But she wasn't doing that. She was arriving in a smelly motorcar, hair windblown, at a place she didn't want to be with only one of her brothers. She bit her lip as the car stopped and reminded herself that queens do _not_ cry when they can't have their way.

But she was also a ten-year-old girl (2), and she wanted nothing more than to break down right then. Edmund must have seen it, because when he got out and met her at the back to get their suitcases he put his arm around her shoulders. "Chin up, Lu," he whispered. He sounded just like Peter, comforting and gentle. "Besides, you don't want Eustace to see you like this, do you? He'll just mock you for it."

That was more like Edmund; he was absolutely right. Lucy took a breath, straightened her back, took her carpetbag suitcase (all that was left after the others packed) and walked inside the up-to-date house with the open windows. Alberta, apparently not believing in old-fashioned hospitable manners, was not there to greet them, but Eustace Clarence Scrubb was, an unpleasant smile on his face that made Lucy feel anything but welcome.

"Take your cousin's things to your room, Eustace," Uncle—Harold said before disappearing down the hall into his study. Eustace Clarence walked forward and picked up Eustace's bag. "You're staying in _my_ room," he informed Edmund. "Which means you have to keep _my_ rules. Come one, then. Follow me." And he turned with Edmund's lighter bag in his hand, vanishing through the same hallway into a different door. Edmund gave Lucy one grimace before following. Lucy set her carpetbag down on the wood floor and looked around. It was the livingroom, she supposed, but it had only one white couch that looked too pristine to sit on, a chair made more for better posture than comfort, and one side table with a single book. It was a very empty room. Even the pictures on two of the walls were abstract figures that puzzled the eyes rather than made the room brighter.

She remembered Narnia's warm rugs and colorful tapestries. Even the sea and shore had more color and life. And this was to be their home, for the next sixteen weeks?

With Eustace Clarence Scrubb? With two adults who wanted to be called Harold and Alberta instead of something mothering or fathering and who didn't like children other than their own?

She would _not_ cry.

A breeze ran through the room, from the open window. It had the smell of the motorcar, and it at least made her smile. Edmund would be eager to get his hands on it, to examine it and pass judgement on it, once the Scrubbs weren't around to make fun of him for it. There were still good things here, she supposed. There had to be. There wasn't a single place that didn't have _something_ good in it.

"_You're_ in the back room, out of the way," came the snide voice from the hallway. Lucy jumped, nearly tripping over her carpetbag when she turned. Eustace was in the hallway, lounging against the wall with his hands in his pockets. "Come along. You're wasting time, and studies have shown that's one of the leading causes of poverty, people who don't work hard enough." Lucy thought of her mother, who hadn't had a real holiday for ten years (3), and her father, working through the summer in a foreign country in hopes of getting a better job, and wished Edmund was there to prove Eustace wrong. But guests aren't allowed to do that, so she picked up her carpetbag and followed Eustace up the stairs without saying anything. He opened the door for the small room at the back of the house, and she pushed past him and turned in the doorway.

"I think I'll unpack now. Thank you for showing me the way." She shut the door firmly before he could protest, and turned to view the room.

It, too, was mostly empty. It had a bed, a dresser on the opposite wall, and a single picture of a sailing ship on a blue, blue sea. Lucy put her carpetbag on the dresser without looking and walked right up to the picture. It was as Narnian a ship as she had ever seen, and for a single moment she could smell the sea from her dreams again, and smile lit her whole face.

There _was_ something good here. There was a reminder of Narnia in her own room. A reminder of home.

**OOOOO**

(1) VOTD was published in 1952, and apparently motorcars were first used in Britain in the early 1960s but didn't become popular till the 1970s. I can still see the Scrubbs, whom Lewis described as "very up-to-date and advanced people," owning one right away.  
(2) From what I can gather, Lucy was eight in Narnia, and then they spent a year in England before _Prince Caspian_, and in chapter two of VOTD Edmund says it had been a year in England, so Lucy would be about ten. My thanks to Calyn, who pointed out the quote in chapter two!  
(3) VOTD p. 1

Response to the Guest review Anonymous on "Reflected Light," because I'm not sure where else to respond; I am so, so glad the story helped. I sometimes pray that my writing does exactly that; that it tells stories that tell the truth in a way that strengthens. I hope it's not presumptuous, but I'm praying you know the love of God that surpasses knowledge, not only that it covers a multitude of sins, but that it cleanses and sets us free. Amen.


	3. 3: Through the Painting

Updated 03/27/2019 to fix a typo; thank you, ILoveCheetosbutIAMTIMELSS, for catching that!

Disclaimer: Narnia isn't mine, I'm just jumping into Lewis's world.

**Chapter Three: Through the Painting**

Of course, a _reminder_ of home was not quite enough to make up for missing the home itself, when one was in exile, Lucy privately reflected. But it was something she could share with Edmund, in the rare moments when they managed to excuse themselves from the lectures of their uncle, the sniffs of disapproval from their aunt, _and_ the bullying of their cousin and slip up to her room to talk about Narnia. Narnia, brought closer than before by the picture on her wall.

(1)"The question is," said Edmund, "whether it doesn't make things worse, looking at a Narnian ship when you can't get there." Lucy stared at the painting, remembering the graceful swell of the Narnian sea, and her heart longed for home once again, to _be_ there. But the painting did bring it closer.

"Even looking is better than nothing. And," she added, marveling once again at the rich purple and living green, the dragon head and gilded wings, "she is such a very Narnian ship."

Of course, at that moment their cousin interrupted, having been listening outside the door. Badger and bear guards, thought Lucy. They used to guard our doors. She spent a moment enjoying a picture of how Eustace would have looked when confronted by them as Edmund dealt with their unpleasant relative. Or tried to. For all of Edmund's own skill at being curt—which was a blessing at times—Eustace enjoyed inconveniencing them too much to leave. But then Eustace asked her about the painting.

The painting that reminded her of home, partly because it seemed so alive. And as she described it, something so strange and so familiar happened. The breeze picked up, coming _from the painting_, and with it _sounds_, the sounds of a ship on the sea, and the smell. She caught her breathe. She _knew_ that smell. She knew it from another life. She knew it from her dreams. She knew it like she knew home.

The wet wave spilling from the painting and slapping the three of them—including her objecting cousin—did _not_ feel like home, but the pull of magic, growing a painting into an entire world, she'd felt that pull before, on a train station. The pull of a different world. And as her cousin felt it and rushed forward to smash the painting, she acted an instant after her brother and caught the side Edmund wasn't pulling on; Eustace, and the magic, dragged them both forward, and suddenly they were standing on the frame, the sea breaking against it like waves on rocks. Oh, _the sea!_ Then Eustace panicked and dragged all three into the ocean.

Lucy kept her head like a queen should, kicked off her shoes, and started swimming. Towards the ship that had been her reminder of home; towards the only safety in sight.

Until Eustace, still panicking, dragged her down. She choked half a mouthful of liquid, the salt-water painfully familiar, but when they came back up Edmund was there, catching Eustace's arms. And someone else had dived off the ship, someone with a face that was vaguely familiar(2), someone who helped her tread water until he and her brother could tie a rope around her. And the cold was biting, and the side of the ship rough (she bruised her knee), but the ship's crew was as careful as they could be, and soon her brother and cousin were standing beside her. The familiar stranger came up last.

_She knew him. _She was there when he first met Aslan, she'd watched him start to rule the land that had once been hers, and she gasped out his name between chattering teeth. His name, which meant she was home. She was back. And Edmund with her.

And Eustace. Eustace, who stood at a distance while she and Edmund shook hands with their friend in delight; Eustace, who was as out of place in Narnia as the ship's painting had been in his house. Eustace, who rushed to the side of the ship, looking for something familiar, and Lucy's heart twinged, for she knew that feeling. She had not, however, thrown up after not finding anything, as her cousin did; but she knew he was truly miserable.

But Caspian was calling for spiced wine - she'd forgotten that scent, the strong burning taste that warmed them and tasted of _Narnia_, and she curved her fingers around the silver cup and smiled into it, running her fingers over the dwarf-etched figures of the lion on the side. This felt like home.

And then Eustace began complaining and asking for something whose name she did not remember, only that it was nerve food. And she thought he might need it, for she could not imagine what Aslan intended for him in Narnia; surely it would be too much for Eustace to handle. Though Aslan's choice was always right.

She reminded herself of that, when she heard Eustace scream in disgust, and turned to find a mouse, walking on its hind feet, a crimson feather in the gold circlet on its head, and a sword at its side (3). Reepicheep, someone whom Lucy had always longed to take up in her arms and cuddle (4). But he was valiant soldier, a hero of the battles of Narnia in Caspian's time, and she gave him what he valued: dignity and respect, kneeling on one knee to talk at his height, and surrendering her hand for the kiss a knight gives a lady.

He did not mix well with Eustace. Honor personified with adventure does not speak with pettiness, and she foresaw she would miss Susan's gentleness that grew gentleness in others on this trip. But Reepicheep was before her, and Caspian at her side, and they sailed on a Narnia ship.

And shivered on one; she and Edmund both sneezed, and Caspian scolded himself with true Narnian hospitality, and took both her and her brother the king - for they were Aslan's appointed royals again - to His cabin, a cabin with the exquisite dwarf-made lanterns, decorations of birds, dragons, beasts, and vines, and a golden Aslan on the wall (5). Caspian took things for himself and Edmund, and left her in her new home. Dressing, she paused by a window, to see the sea-her sea-and thanked Aslan she had not gone to America.

(1) The following dialogue (but not all the interjections) is a direct quote from VOTD.  
(2) VOTD p. 13  
(3) VOTD p. 16  
(4) VOTD p. 16  
(5) VOTD p. 17, 18

OOOOO

Response to Anonymousme: Thanks for reviewing! I hope you enjoy the story; it's not a Caspian one, as I think I'll be able to write this better from Lucy's point of view; and hers was the theme. Read it as you can, and I look forward to hearing from you when you do!


	4. 4: Echoes of Aslan's Country

**Chapter Four:** Echoes of Aslan's Home

Disclaimer: _The Voyage of the Dawn Treader_ isn't mine, I'm merely sailing with them.

She came out, dry, and feeling much more ready for what adventures Aslan would send them. Caspian, Reepicheep, Edmund, and a captain she was introduced, Lord Drinian, were waiting. Eustace was sick in bed, seasick, and she gladly dismissed him (and England with him) from her mind for a few moments. Edmund was inquiring about Narnia.

She remembered it best from their age, remembered it with its paths, forests, and rivers, and the way she'd walked or ridden them. But she remembered some from Caspian, from the confusing journey with its shifted landmarks, and from the whirlwind at Beruna and its fords again.

And it was _Narnia_, and her heart thrilled to hear how well things were going there. Caspian, a true king, had left his realm at peace, prospering, and in the capable hands of Lucy's one-time traveling companion, a fierce and loyal dwarf whose only lack had been disbelief, but Aslan had changed that. Narnia could not be in better hands. It was nice, she thought softly, to be called back during one of its good times. But Edmund was asking where they were headed.

"(1) Well," said Caspian, "that's rather a long story. Perhaps you remember that when I was a child my usurping uncle," and Lucy had a memory of a stern, cruel face with closed eyes and black armor; she'd never seen Miraz alive, "Miraz got rid of seven friends of my father's (who might have taken my part) by sending them off to explore the unknown Eastern Seas beyond the Lost Islands."

Lucy remembered them; remembered meeting some of the servants and ladies at Miraz's castle who still mourned them; remembered the joy in those same people when the Lords of Beaversdam rode in with Caspian (2). "Yes," she said, "and none of them ever came back."

"Right. Well, on my coronation day, with Aslan's approval, I swore an oath that, if once I established peace in Narnia, I would sail east myself for a year and a day to find my father's friends or to learn of their deaths and avenge them if I could." And he listed their names (forgetting one), and Lucy listened, the sounds strange to her ears. She was reminded once again they hadn't been Narnian Lords, not truly. But they had been _good_, good friends and good men, and the queen reminded herself that this way were allies won; the girl remembered that Aslan's Own helped all those who needed it. Hence Aslan's approval of Caspian's oath.

Caspian was bigger than she remembered, taller, older, and the weight of ruling sat more easily on his shoulders then as a boy. Lucy remembered how Aslan had been bigger too (3), growing in size as she grew in stature; He would always be larger than her world. Caspian had grown as well, and she smiled to see it.

Caspian was turning the conversation to Reepicheep, valiant, as small in stature and large in spirit as he ever had been, a world she longed to hold in her arms.

Reepicheep, who wanted to sail to the edge of the world and find Aslan's own country. Lucy's breath caught. Narnia she loved; Narnia was home, but Aslan's country was something that called to the deepest parts of her heart. But - was it even possible? "But do you think Aslan's country would be that sort of country - I mean, the sort you could ever _sail_ to?" And Reepicheep, whose hopes and dreams soared even above Narnia itself, did not know. But he'd been given a promise, as a mousling, to find all he sought in the utter East (4). And they were all silent for a moment, caught up in a promise they did not fully understand but could not help longing for.

Lucy recovered herself first, and asked where they were. She remembered making trips such as this before, once even with just Edmund of her siblings. Perhaps she'd get to see Terebinthia again. Lord Drinian brought out a map, sketching the voyage so far-they had been thirty days at sea (5), passing Galma, Terebinthia, Muil, Brenn with a new port named Redhaven, and were approaching the Lone Islands. Lord Drinian was pointing on the map, but Lucy, though she paid attention, was tracing it with her eyes. She remembered it, remembered them all, the high castle at Terebinthia, the knights and laughter and loud shouts at Galma where she'd first felt that there were so many humans, the passages she, Peter, and Susan had rowed in a small boat between the seven isles, starting from Muil, and the welcome that rivaled a Narnian one that islanders of Brenn alway gave. Though much had changed in Narnia, the islands were still there, still living, still a sea-journey from home, and she drew a breath of Narnian air and filled her lungs with it, delight filling her soul. And the Lone Islands were ahead. "(6) And after the Lone Islands?" she asked.

"No one knows, your Majesty," answered Drinian. "Unless the Lone Islanders themselves can tell us."

"And they couldn't in our days," said Edmund.

"Then," said Reepicheep, "it is after the Lone Islands that he adventure really begins." And Lucy smiled, because yes, this too was Narnia. Adventure on the winds Aslan sent.

Caspian offered to show them his ship, but Lucy remembered Eustace, and though she did not welcome his company, she knew seasickness was miserable, and wished out loud she had her cordial to cure him. Caspian had brought it with him, and took it from its locker to hand it to her with a "Take back your own, Queen," and Lucy once again held the diamond bottle in her hand, the smooth oval beneath her fingers, the appointed task of healer once again resting with her wherever she went, and she breathed a prayer of thanks to Aslan, because this task, too, was home.

And with it she went to Eustace, her brother, Narnia's king, Narnia's knight, and the captain by her side, and smelled once again the smell of fire, warmth, and healing. A part of her laughed, for it set side-by-side with the complaining, pompous words of Eustace, and that, too, was a reminder of a different home—an exile. An exile that no longer held her, not for now, and she laughed with joy at that. But she held her laughter in, and worked to help the others convince Eustace that the doors between his world and Narnia were not theirs to open, and that they sailed for a place he might find help as fast as they could. And a part of her heart was sorry for him, because Narnia was a release of exile for them, but for Eustace it was the opposite; an exile from all he knew and liked.

But they were there, and there was nothing to be done about it, so she followed Caspian as he showed them The Dawn Treader. And it was smaller than she remembered (unlike Aslan), but she recognised the love and pride in Caspian's eyes, and laughed delightedly. Because that love was what made Narnia things beautiful. What made them home. A love strong enough to sail possibly to Aslan's country itself.

Looking at Edmund, her delight grew deeper, for she knew he felt it too. (7) And when they returned aft to the cabin and supper, and saw the whole western sky lit up with an immense crimson sunset, and felt the quiver of the ship, and tasted the salt on their lips, and thought of unknown lands on the Eastern rim of the world, Lucy felt that she was almost too happy to speak.

**OOOOO**

(1) The dialogue here is taken from VOTD p. 20  
(2) Reference to the sort-of prequel I wrote to this story, Meeting the Legends.  
(3) _Prince Caspian_, when she finally finds Aslan, He tells her that He is bigger because she is older.  
(4) VOTD p. 21  
(5) VOTD p. 22  
(6) The following dialogue is taken from VOTD p. 22  
(7) The following quote is entirely Lewis's, VOTD p. 27


	5. 5: Storms

**Chapter Five: Storms**

Disclaimer: I own Narnia as much as I own storms, thunder, and lightning (and I'm not Thor).

The following days, Lucy created routines. They helped to make the adventure more like home There was little she could do to help hoisting sails as a girl of ten, but she took her turn on look-out duty. She climbed to the front of the ship and watched the waves, loving the sea. Later, as she came down she saw a sailor bending over the map Lord Drinian had left out (a metal lion on each corner to weigh it down), and came over to talk to him. He startled, but she smiled up at his red face.

"What were you looking at?"

"I was trying to figure out where we were, based on the records the captain keeps—he left it right here—he doesn't mind," he stammered. "Your majesty," he added hastily, and she smiled and showed him.

"I learned navigation from a centaur, the only one who would come aboard ship," she remembered, eyes distant as she saw again the roan flanks, red beard, and deep eyes of Firefinds, bending much farther over than she to help her measure the distances they sailed by telling her the stories of the winds that filled their sails. She came back to the _Dawn Treader_ with a smile, and saw the sailor looking at her, fascinated. "He wanted his sovereigns to always be able to find their way home. Would you like me to teach you? I'd love to," she asked, remembering with joy how much Narnians liked to learn—and especially to learn from stories. The sailor's glad acceptance was echoed by more, and soon teaching was a regular part of her afternoons—however much Eustace sniffed when he walked by, and once flat-out told her that little girls did _not_ teach navigation. She smiled and said, "They do in Narnia." She was so glad to be home.

But teaching and taking a turn as a look-out wasn't enough. Not even when she added taking care of the small wounds that came with sailing. So she helped with the daily mundane tasks, remembering how it helped to bind a ship's crew together; how it made her a part of them, like her family back in England. She and Edmund, smiles on their faces, drew buckets of water up the side to wash dishes in, Edmund deliberately splashing Eustace when he walked by and sniffed again, outraged that people called _king _and _queen_ would do such things. She felt sorry for him, that he knew so little of Narnia, and what made a Narnian king or queen. (Apart from Aslan. She was among those who spoke about Aslan once again.) She fed the hens on the ship's deck (1), ignoring Eustace's comments about _murder_ and _unhealthy food_, and named the poor, dumb things. She loved working with those who belonged to her home, with Narnians.

Eustace didn't, which might explain part of the distance between him and the others. He was always absent during clean-ups (and she wondered if he'd be good at hide-and-seek here, for even on the small ship he was rarely found), had a headache when they asked him to be a look-out, and rolled his eyes at the idea of teaching such an ignorant group of people. She found herself explaining things to sailors in an attempt to keep the peace; but she couldn't always find a good reason for Eustace's behavior.

And then came the storm.

Blind with the water pouring on her face, deaf from the crack of thunder, feet skidding on the deck as the waves hit her, wrestling with cold fingers to get below by pulling on the rope Edmund had tied around her to bring out a tool that was needed, she arrived back below deck soaking wet once again, fingers and feet throbbing, her whole body shivering. But then she laughed, standing by the door, because this was a part of a Narnia too, the struggle, the adventure, the working together that brought them through it.

And Eustace, who had been predicting the ship would be swamped under the waves and go under, declared her quite mad.

But it was Narnia, and they were in Aslan's paws, to sail or sink as He sent.

The storm of water and wind ceased, and Lucy worked with the sailors to clean up. Happy with the people she was with, she didn't expect the second storm, the one that started just before dinner began, a few days after things were back to the routine she'd created.

It started with Eustace, running in and (2) shouting out: "That little brute has half killed me. I insist on it being kept under control. I could bring an action against you, Caspian. I could order you to have it destroyed." Lucy's eyes darted to the door as she stood, seeing Reepicheep following her cousin.

He apologized for the current unpleasantness—something Lucy couldn't help contrasting to Eustace's continuing demands—and explained, to Lucy's horror, that her cousin had picked the mouse up by his tail and swung him around in the air by it, like cruel boys did to cats in England. And Eustace was whining because Reepicheep had jabbed his hand twice.

Then Reepicheep was demanding a duel, and Caspian was offering Eustace his sword. Lucy tried not to roll her eyes. Kings and knights. There were much easier ways to solve this. But she said nothing, for Susan and Lucy had both found that men did not particularly care for advice from girls when dealing with their honor.

Edmund, on the other hand, had no objection to his cousin being taken down a peg, and was discussing handicapping Eustace because he was so much bigger than the mouse. Lucy couldn't deny the idea had a certain appeal. And Reepicheep deserved it. But Eustace was, Lucy knew, a coward like so many bullies, and he apologized sulkily (3), and she sighed. At least there wouldn't be a duel. Eustace would have sulked forever. Reepicheep bowed, saying that the apology and the blows he had given were enough.

That blown over, Lucy rose, went to her cousin, and towed him to her cabin. She dipped the towel in the washbasin after sitting him on the bed, and came over to bathe his hand, grabbing a bandage as well.

"I should have had the law on Caspian," Eustace said sulkily. Lucy bit her tongue and tried to give Eustace a warning glance. "This would never be allowed to happen at _home_," Eustace added. Lucy reminded herself that queens _did not snap_ and started wrapping the hand in a bandage.

"This _isn't England_," she told Eustace. "This isn't your home, Eustace, it's a _Narnian ship_. And you need to treat those on board better. Or you'll get hurt again," she added, trying to use reasoning he'd understand. He scowled but didn't say anything while she finished.

When he left she blew out a sharp breath. She'd had to carefully restrain her tongue; what he had done was reprehensible, not just bullying, but humiliating to a creature so careful of his dignity. The queen in her demanded more justice than Reepicheep was given, and she went to find him. She left her cabin and walked by the railing, taking a deep breath, before going to the front of the ship. Reepicheep was there again, willing the ship to go faster, and once again singing the song the Dryad had sung over him as a mousling (4). His heart was far from the ship, Lucy realised. She wondered why; it felt so much like home to her. It should to him as well. But the way he looked at the East made her wonder.

She leaned against the wooden dragon's neck, head tilted back to look upwards.

"Reepicheep," she called, when the verse was finished. The mouse scurried down, climbing down the bulwarks to reach the deck and bow.

"At your service, Your Majesty," he said in his high, valiant voice, and Lucy almost closed her eyes with the strength of the wish that Eustace, with his bullying, dismissing ways, could _see_ Reepicheep. Could value the honor, courage, and loyalty of someone so small, yet so unafraid of the big world around him, while Eustace feared a mouse half his size. There were no knights like Narnian knights, and she recalled the ones she'd known and loved with a pang of longing. Her own personal guard, Hezret the Badger, Lether the Panther, walking beside her sturdy and as valiant as she, teaching her to throw daggers and shoot arrows. Peter's guards, whom he'd carefully instructed to see to his siblings' safety on far too many occasions, and so very many others. And now Aslan had sent her a journey with Reepicheep, another of His knights. One who deserved an apology.

"I _am_ sorry about Eustace," she said. Reepicheep bowed again.

"Your Majesty has no responsibility for his actions, kin though he be of yours, my Queen. If he were not your family, I would not tolerate him an instant. But my honor is satisfied with his apology, and I ask you to think of it no more."

Lucy smiled, marveling again that being so small had such a large heart. "Do you ever long for Narnia?" she asked suddenly, her mind going back once again to the knights she had known. Trumpkin was there even now. But Reepicheep shook his head, whiskers twitching, all patient attendance. She leaned further back into the circular carved scales and regarded him curiously.

"But it's home for you - don't you miss it?"

"It has not been a good home most of my life, your Majesty. In the dark days before his Majesty fought it was a place of danger for all Narnians and many of us fell, going on to Aslan's country. I thought I desired only Narnia's freedom and the glory of combat beforehand. But peace came, and though I would have given my life without the great Lion's aid, it was not enough." He paused, getting once again lost in thought, probably back at the battle where he and his mice had fought so hard. Lucy could not doubt a part of him longed for that, for the simple battles where good and evil were clearly drawn to sides and one could fight wholeheartedly for Aslan's cause.

"What then?" she asked, when the mouse remained still. He shook himself.

"His Majesty's coronation came. There I heard his oath and remembered the song sung over me as a child, and my heart yearned for three years for the day we would sail closer to the utter East." His high voice dropped to a whisper with longing. "To Aslan's country."

And Lucy was silent, for it was a yearning she could share. Aslan had appeared to her the most of her siblings, she knew, but He was always called away again, and she had wondered if in His country it might be different. If there would be no leaving, no parting-only Him and His own, Hezret, Tumnus, Mrs. and Mrs. Beaver, Lether, and all others they'd left behind.

England in the Scrubbs' house had been exile, but even now she and Edmund weren't actually in Narnia. Yet they were still home, here on the _Dawn Treader_.

Only, she thought while pondering Reepicheep's words, the ship itself wasn't home.

Aslan and His own were. And suddenly with Reepicheep she longed for the ship to go faster, farther. To chase the sunset and land in Aslan's country. Because _there_ was the true home for any of His own.

But here, with His king and His knights and the rest, this was a taste of it, and she smiled as she thanked Him for it.

OOOOO

A/N: I do not in any way ship Lucy with Reepicheep. But I do think his honoring of her as a lady and a queen, the way she thinks he looks adorable and yet is careful of his dignity, and the way both of them have valiant hearts would make them very, very good friends.

(1) VOTD p. 26  
(2) direct quote from VOTD p. 28  
(3) description of the apology was the way Lewis wrote it, and isn't mine.  
(4) Lewis wrote this was a frequent pastime of Reepicheep's, so it's not my invention. I loved it, though.

Response to Aslan's Daughter: I'm glad you liked the chapter; thank you for reading it. And for reviewing! I admit those encourage me a lot.

Response to Anonymousme on Am I loved?: I will do my best to keep writing; it seems to be a habit swiftly becoming a need, so I'm not too worried about it. But I am so, so glad it meant something to you. I was hoping it would mean something to those who read it, though in the end it wasn't quite what I meant to say.


	6. 6: Interspersed Memories

**Chapter Six: Interspersed Memories**

A/N: I have absolutely no idea how to repair a ship. I've heard it's impossible while still at sea; yet in John Newton's biography it talks about the sailors working to plug holes after a storm; and it would make zero sense not to have at least some procedures after a storm came through _to stop the water from entering the floating vessel_, right? So I'm trying. But Andy Weir wrote a fascinating book (if language-filled) because he came up with problems and then came up with solution to making a life possible on Mars for several months, so I'm doing my best to follow suit. We'll see how that works.

Disclaimer: Lucy doesn't own the tale she told, and I do not own my tales either.

"I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living!" Psalm 27:13

The _Dawn Treader_ was still days away from land when the first clear day dawned. Lucy woke to the sound of voices, busier than usual, and dressed (still barefoot) and left the cabin as quickly as she could, curious. She could tell by the noise level that something was happening. She stepped out into the sunlight and laughed to realise how familiar the ship was. Her eyes adjusted and she looked around.

The sailors were walking forward and aft on the deck and a few were bent over the railings, peering down at the sides. Walking by, enjoying the breeze that filled the sails, she heard snippets of conversations about repairs, and loved how in Narnia even repairs made the day a good one to be alive. She slipped past the bustle to where her brother and Caspian were listening to Drinian and stood behind them, ready to find out how she could help.

"-ut there's a limited amount we can see from the deck," Drinian said. He nodded to her. "Your majesty." Caspian and Edmund both turned and bowed, smiling.

"What's happening?" she asked, moving to stand beside her brother.

"Not a cloud in the sky, your Majesty, so we're checking for storm damage, best we can while still at sea." He nodded to Edmund. "King Edmund was about to give us some good advice, I'll be bound." Lucy smiled. Edmund had been renowned for his advice, in their age, and he had known about a surprising amount of miscellaneous subjects.

And he'd learned about ship-care from Marshwiggles, Dryads, and Naiads, who knew both water and wood.

"You can't go below the waterline, not without swimming, and it's too difficult to see underwater to make it worth it, but you can at least get lower down," Edmund said.

"How?" Caspian's eyes were curious, and Lucy smiled again. His curiosity and Edmund's were probably a match. It was a good thing in a king.

And it felt like home, to watch a king learn a thing that could be of help to his people.

"Ropes," Edmund said simply, and Caspian and Drinian both frowned.

"The person would get banged to pieces, your Majesty," Drinian said bluntly, adding under his breath "so let's send your cousin first," but Edmund just grinned.

"Rope_sss_," he said, drawing out the plural. "One from the dragon's tail, one from the head, pulled tight to keep the sailor against the side. It harnesses them to go up and down with the ship and the waves, rather than just swinging out and then coming back to body slam the ship." He winced, remembering. "It's worse than rugby," he muttered as an aside to Lucy, and she giggled, remembering when one of his ropes had slipped off and he'd swung out and back in repeatedly before they could pull him back up. Peter had been most unhappy.

Caspian, not caught up in their memories, was looking at Drinian. "We have the rope," he said. "Can we try it?"

"I'll go first," Lucy volunteered, knowing the idea would probably be disconcerting until its effectiveness had been seen. It had been a frightening, the one time she'd helped before, though for different reasons. She'd been fourteen, and the only ruler aboard. They'd been attacked by a pirate ship from Brenn, flying the flag of a black sword thrust through a bleeding merman, and it had flung flaming torches covered in pitch at the side of the Narnian ship. She and the ship's cook and cabin boy had strung ropes while the warriors fought and taken pails to extinguish the attacks, to keep the ship afloat but also because the sailors wanted them safe. She'd carried a bucket full of water, dragging her arms downward, and inching closer to the flames, burning her arms and one foot in the process. She remembered trying to ignore the shouts, yells, and screams from above her head, praying to Aslan to keep her crew safe. The cabin boy's ropes had burned through when he got to close, and the cook had seized him as he fell, and looked to her to get the last three fireballs. She'd had to let the rope out low enough the waves splashed her, the salt-water burning her throat when she accidentally swallowed, soaking her shoes and cooling the burns, so she could refill her bucket, then she'd had to climb up the side of the ship again while it pitched and rolled and she'd tried desperately not to throw up. She'd still gone on the ropes again after the battle (fourteen sailors lost their lives that day) and helped repair the holes so they could sail back to Narnia. Exhausted, trying not to fall asleep, she'd gone to dinner, and almost cried when each sailor had raised their glass and toasted "The Valiant Queen!" She had never felt smaller. She hadn't told her siblings how much that had hurt, but they'd seen the blackened holes the size of dinner plates riddled along the ship's sides, and hadn't asked many questions. Edmund and Peter had divided their attention between the borders and the seas next year, and Susan and Lucy didn't sail until their brothers were satisfied.

Something touched her arm, and Lucy blinked and looked up, shaking off the sounds of fighting an the smell of burning wood. Edmund was looking at her.

"You're ten and still pint-sized." He smiled, inviting her to share the joke. "You're far too light to effectively weigh the ropes down." He looked at Caspian, diverting attention away from her by saying, "I'll go first, Caspian, if you'll help me tie the ropes." Caspian grinned.

"The both of us together then? Scaling the sides by rope for Narnia and for Aslan!" he said laughingly.

"Perhaps I should try it before your Majesties," Drinian said. As both looked at him to object, he said, "At least before _your _Majesty, who hasn't tried it yet," while looking at Caspian. And Lucy laughed again, because Peter had the _exact_ same expression as a boy when someone had told him he couldn't try something dangerous.

Edmund had just found ways around that prohibition, she remembered while grinning. Like the time he'd been told he couldn't explore a part of the Western Wood so he'd taken a map and come up with a specific destination (the furthest tree on the other side) and had told his unhappy bodyguards when they found him standing over the dead body of a murderous satyr that he _hadn't been _exploring; he'd been traveling. (His bodyguards left the scolding up to Peter; a wise choice, Lucy had decided as she'd applied her cordial to Edmund while listening to Peter thunder "At least take someone with you if you're going to make stupid decisions, Ed!" Granted, Edmund had found a way around _that _as well. He just started taking Peter with him.) She shook herself free of the memories once again as the group started moving below deck to get ropes.

Lucy and Edmund had found they were followed almost anywhere on the ship; Caspian followed them with a lot of curiosity and a little bit of awe in his face, and the sailors followed his curiosity with their own, and Lucy and Edmund gave them old Narnian songs and customs as the things they'd learned hundreds of years ago in this world came to the fore. So Lucy wasn't really surprised to find a collection of men and other Narnians outside the door when the group came back outside. Edmund, with the easy gravity that came so naturally to him when explaining things, had them help him tie the knots he'd taught them their second day in Narnia at each end of the boat, leaving slack they could let out, and showed the remainders how to braid the ropes with a third tied to the deck railing before tying them about his waist.

"As if he knew anything about the delicate balance of equal tension," said a sneering voice in her ear; and Lucy discovered Eustace had come to find out what everyone was watching. She reminded herself Eustace was an exile in a foreign country.

"He's done this before, you know," she pointed out, walking out of Eustace's conversational sphere and towards the railing. If she knew her brother, he'd want someone to fetch tools once they lowered him down. She sat on the railing and watched the waves.

Aslan, give her patience with Eustace. She didn't know why He'd sent her cousin to her home.

"You seem lost in your thoughts today," said a kinder, kinglier voice. She turned, beaming up at Caspian.

"There's such much even here that reminds me of the past," she explained, waving at the short expanse of the _Dawn Treader_. "I keep remembering things about it today."

"Like what?" She hears the _Narnian_ excitement in his voice and turns to where Edmund is walking slowly down the side of the rocking ship as the sailors at each end let the slack out.

"Like the first time he tried this." She grinned. "He tripped, and the dryads on the ship shot their arms down to catch him and the Naiads in the water flung a wave up to stop his fall, and he just ended up in the middle soaking wet and tangled in wood, with a Marshwiggle to the side saying "I told you this was a bad idea, your majesty. You'll die of cold now, I shouldn't wonder. A ship's not worth that. But it's better than dying in the open ocean. Nasty creatures can eat you then. Or maybe you'd decompose. Nasty way to die. I'll probably die that way…" and Edmund was trying more and more to control his temper as the Marshwiggle continued to sit there and make dour predictions instead of helping him out, and Peter, Susan, and I were all doubled over laughing on the dock. Finally the dryads lowered him down, the merfolk caught him and brought him to shore, and he glared at us and said, "I'm doing it again _without_ a Marshwiggle," and Peter stopped laughing long enough to hold one rope while Susan and I held the other." Caspian was laughing by this time too, and the sailors within earshot were chuckling.

"And his second time was better?"

Lucy grinned wider. "Going down was," she said demurely, remembering Susan telling this tale. "But he didn't make it back _up_."

Caspian broke into laughter again, and she laughed with him, and right below her she heard a warning "_Lucy."_

She leaned over the side to look at her brother, his feet braced against the sides, looking as balanced as he did on the deck these days. "And when he tried to climb back up," she added, "he forgot to tell us take up the slack, so _that_ time when he tripped he fell all the way to the length of the ropes and we all heard him yelp, and poor Peter couldn't even rush over to see what was wrong, so he closed his eyes and prayed to Aslan, and Susan yelled to see if he was all right, and then we all heard the merfolk laughing, and we handed our ropes to sailors and looked over the side and found him upside-down, just above the waterline, head at a level with the merfolk but topsy-turvy." Edmund was trying to scowl, but she could see the memories were making him grin too. She turned back to Caspian. "Are you sure you'd like to try?" she asked impishly, and he laughed one more time.

"Yes, but I shall consider myself forewarned." He bowed and moved away.

Edmund was a good teacher (much better than the marshwiggle who taught him and who hadn't any common sense), and few of those who tried ship-walking got tangled in any lines. Even better, there were few repairs to make, and none below the waterline. Dinner that night was a meal of celebration, begun by Caspian rising to his feet, glass in hand.

"To Aslan, who sends us storms that strengthen us and duties in fair weather that lead to good fellowship. May we ever be thankful for the adventures He sends." All sailors, kings, knights, and queen raised their glasses and drank "To Aslan!" Except Eustace, who Lucy noticed left his untouched. But Aslan wasn't his, she realised, and was suddenly very sorry for her cousin.

To live without Aslan was misery. To live in His world and among His people and not taste the happiness He gave was greater misery yet. Even if Eustace didn't seem to know what he was missing. And she said a silent second toast of thanks, that Aslan had brought her back among His own and made the days with them so good.

OOOOO

Response to Anonymousme: Since this is strictly bookverse, and in it Lucy is ten years old, and in it Caspian loves the star's daughter and to have him love both would make him fickle and therefore untrustworthy (or silly, like Harriet in _Emma_ who falls in love with three people in one year), no, there will be no Caspian/Lucy. I'm sorry, I'm afraid she's too young and it's not bookverse, and this is meant to stay precisely inside the world of the book. And thank you for your second review; I think wistful suits an exile better than the story of a battling king, so it's kind of shaping itself; but I'm hoping to learn to capture the joy and valiant spirit she had too; I'm just still learning that as an author!


	7. 7: Familiar Islands

**Chapter Seven: Familiar Islands**

Disclaimer: I am not wealthy enough to own an island, and not rich enough to have invented these ones.

(1) "Land in sight," shouted the man in the bows. Lucy had been standing on the deck above her cabin talking to Rhince, the first mate; at these words she raced down the ladder and joined her brother, heading together to the forecastle where the captain, king, and valiant mouse were already looking towards the islands in the distance.

There, nearer, was Felimath, (2) like a low green hill in the sea, and behind it, further off, the grey slopes of its sister Doorn. Lucy drew in a breath; the shape, the green color, the gentle rise above the waves, were exactly like she remembered them; voyage upon voyage rushed through her mind, Narnia's elegant ships cutting the waves, creaking above and around her, to visit a place that became a home away from their beloved Cair Paravel, full of a different type of Narnians. Oh, she remembered this!

(3) "Same old Felimath! Same old Doorn!" she said, clapping her hands. "Oh — Edmund, how long it is since you and I saw them last!" They hadn't come to sea during their first visit to Caspian's Narnia, and she had not been here since the Golden Age. That was two years her time, and she missed it like a schoolchild misses summer vacation. The islands looked just the same, so familiar and so very dear, and the Lone Islanders had loved the four as much as any other Narnians. The siblings had tried while reigning to make sure at least one of them could visit once a year.

Caspian, however, was asking why they belonged to Narnia; Edmund told him they had belonged to Narnia since before the Long Winter. Lucy, too, wondered what the story was behind their being a part of her kingdom. It had been some correspondence in the library at Cair Paravel that first taught her and her siblings they had obligations beyond their borders; and there had been a mad scramble to discover where these islands were and what the four were supposed to do about them. It had been an old, old sea turtle Lucy had found and started conversing with who had been the most helpful (4). And then there had been the first visit. How welcomed they had been! The celebration had started the day after they landed, one the questions and crowds the Narnian banner had attracted had ceased, and had not stopped till the afternoon they left.

(5) "Are we to put in here, Sire?" asked Drinian. Lucy hoped so; she loved Felimath, with its quiet, with an ache in its air that was like the ache for Aslan's country. But Edmund answered before either she or Caspian could; and, being the practical person he was, explained Felimath was mainly for sheep; Doorn had the most people, though some lived on Avra. Drinian scowled and predicted rowing ahead, turning the helm to double the cape. Lucy sent a longing look at Felimath.

(6) "I'm sorry we're not landing on Felimath. I'd like to walk there again. It was so lonely - a nice kind of loneliness, and all grass and clover and soft sea air."

"I'd love to stretch my legs now too," said Casapian. "I tell you what. Why shouldn't we go ashore in the boat and send it back, and then we could walk across Felimath and let the _Dawn Treader_ pick us up on the other side?" And Lucy's heart leaped; it would be the best of both worlds, the friends she had now, and a place unchanged by time; all she wanted in a home, just for a while.

"Oh do let's," she said.

Even Eustace joining them couldn't dampen her joy, not even when he told them a ship as small as their current home was uncivilized in its tinyness. Caspian gave him a sarcastic response that she thought was well deserved, but held her tongue with a bit of relief since nothing came of it. They lowered the boat, and she, Edmund, Eustace, Caspian, and Reepicheep (who never turned down a chance for adventure) made their way to shore. They bid the boat farewell, and saw with surprise how small their floating home seemed from shore.

Lucy took her first step, and laughed. Laughed at the land's pitching and moving, after being at sea. Laughed at the feeling under her feet. She hadn't often been allowed to go barefoot by the sensible Susan over an entire unknown island; but she didn't have a choice now, having no shoes that would fit since she kicked hers off during their arrival in the ocean. The sand was warm and pleasant under her feet, the grass soft when they reached it, and (7) there was a lark singing. Together they climbed up a steep, low hill, stopping part of the way up as Reepicheep consented to ride on Lucy's shoulder, so his short legs didn't slow their pace. He felt so light Lucy didn't notice, too laughing and eager at being in Felimath, familiar Felimath, climbing its hill once again. They reached the crest, Edmund smiling as much as she, and saw Doorn below them, (8) divided from Felimath by a channel about a while wide; behind it and to the left lay Avra. She could see Narrowhaven, the little white town where the governor lived, and where she had so often stayed. She reached for Edmund's hand; this was like coming back to a familiar grandparents' or uncle's house; like coming back to the mansion where they'd first discovered Narnia. She almost felt like running forward on her own, to reach those streets once again.

But Edmund's sharp (9) "Hullo! What's this?" brought her attention back to Felimath quite quickly. In front of the group were six or seven rough-looking men, armed, the type that would have made her grip her dagger hilt when she was queen.

(10) "Don't tell them who we are," said Caspian.

Reepicheep stiffened on her shoulder. "And pray, your Majesty, why not?" he asked. Lucy too looked at him curiously. Caspian was battle-tense.

"It just occurred to me that no one here can have heard from Narnia for a long time." Nine Caspian's reigns or more, Lucy thought. "It's just possible they may not still acknowledge our over-lordship. In which case it might not be quite safe to be known as the King." Lucy looked towards Edmund; by the grim set of his face, he agreed.

Reepicheep was not as satisfied with something that could reflect on their courage."We have our swords, Sire."

"Yes, Reep, I know we have." Caspian's hand was already at his waist. "But if it is a question of re-conquering the three islands, I'd prefer to come back with a rather large army." They'd continued walking while Caspian spoke in a lower and lower tone; they were within speaking distance of the group of men. One of them shouted a good morning.

"And a good morning to you," said Caspian. "Is there still a Governor of the Lone Islands?" Of course, thought Lucy, that would be the best place to begin. There _was_ still a governor, the black-haired man responded - that was unchanged - and he was still at Narrowhaven. But the black-haired man invited them to sit and drink with the group first.

Lucy sat close to Reepicheep, the comfort of one warrior sitting by another. She still didn't like these men. Her fingers closed around the offered cup and she did her best to smile at the man giving it to her - a smile could make even the most reluctant curmudgeon a friend, she'd found - but it felt forced on her lips. She raised the cup, but before she tasted it arms were grabbing hers, pulling them behind her back as the cup fell on her lap and splashed her, cold on her lap and tight on her wrists. She fought, twisting, but already a rope was pulled tight. Reepicheep was gone from her side, though she could hear a cry of pain beside her in a man's voice. She fought as well as she could, and tried not to cry as she discovered she was ten again, and her strength was nothing compared to the man who held her. Panting, she gave up, looking around. All of them were tied. Suddenly Reepicheep's words were clear again, "Coward! Paltroon! Give me my sword and free my paws if you dare." The black-haired man whistled in surprise then mocked him, and Lucy felt her heart sink further. These were no true Narnians.

They were slavers, kidnappers, and Caspian berated them for it.

"Now, now, now, now, don't you start any jaw. The easier you take it, the pleasanter all round, see?" Lucy listened to him blame them for their behavior and tried not to cry. She was a queen, a queen, not a little girl, and she would not cry. "I don't do this for fun. I've got my living to make same as anyone else."

"Where will you take us?" Lucy asked, trying so hard not to let the words tremble. Please not Calormen, where slaves had no rights, at least not in their time; and please, Aslan, please, don't let them separate us. But her heart trembled; she knew slaves were seldom sold together. What would happen if they separated her from Edmund, from the others? Deep breath. She would _not_ cry.

"Over to Narrowhaven, for market day tomorrow." Close by. They'd stay together. With the _Dawn Treader_ still on the seas. But would the crew find out in time? They had to. Or there had to be a way to escape and get them.

There wasn't a chance at the moment. She, her relatives, and Caspian were roped together and marched down the hill she'd been so eager to climb. Reepicheep was carried, scolding his captor with every breath till he became so furious he nearly suffocated and fell silent. Lucy drew a breath, praying again that Aslan would keep them together, keep them safe, and somehow make this a good thing.

At the bottom was a little village right beside the channel, and small, dirty boat the slaver ordered them into. Just then a (11) fine looking bearded man came out of one of the houses. Pug the slaver, named by the man, turned around at the sound of the man's voice and took a greasy, flattering air. The man had been looking at their group, and asked the price for Caspian, cutting Pug off when he started peddling as if Caspian was an object.

Pug named a price. The man cut it in half. Lucy, listening with growing horror, could stand it no longer. (12) "Oh please, please, don't separate us, whatever you do. You don't know—" But then she stopped for she saw that Caspian didn't even now want to be known.

And she knew him to be right. If these was the Lone Islands - slavers, kidnappers, and the buying and selling of men as the norm - then it would not be safe to be a king with a claim. So she stopped speaking, and looked pleadingly at the man buying Caspian. There was kindness in his face and kindness in his tone as he told her he was sorry he could not buy them all, and then had Caspian untied, and led him away. (13) Lucy burst into tears, and even Edmund looked very blank. Caspian, who had learned much about being a king, called cheer and faith in the future over his shoulder, bidding them also "So long." Then he was gone, and Lucy cried harder.

Pug scolded her, telling her not to spoil her looks or he'd give her something to cry about, and she swallowed her sorrow (it left a lump sitting in her throat) and once again reminded herself she was a queen. They were pushed into the boat, Edmund sitting as close to her as he could, letting her lean against him and feel he was still there. She hid her face in his shoulder, drying it and breathing in his scent, remembering it, and praying. She felt a light press on her other side and lifted her face to see Reepicheep, slipped from his captor's grasp and sitting beside her, silently offering her support, while he faced the worst fate. Better a slave than a pet. She took a deep breath - the air was still of Narnia, and sat up straight. She prayed to Aslan to keep her once more a queen, even when she lost her freedom, her authority, and her family. And all the dreams she'd had of home.

OOOOO

(1) VOTD p. 32  
(2) VOTD p. 32  
(3) The dialogue Lucy says and her clapping is from VOTD p. 32  
(4) This is a short story I'm hoping to write some time; it will be a series of one-shots.  
(5) VOTD p. 32  
(6) The following dialogue is from VOTD p. 34  
(7) VOTD p. 35  
(8) VOTD p. 35  
(9) VOTD p. 35  
(10) The dialogue for this entire scene is taken from VOTD p. 35  
(11) VOTD p. 38  
(12) VOTD p. 39  
(13) VOTD p. 39

Response to Guest on chapter 2: Thank you so much for that information. And I think you captured Harold Scrubb very well...I kind of want to write a story now where he gets some black-market petrol or bargains ruthlessly from a grieving family. It's so very _him_. And accurate information actually makes writing much, much easier, so thank you, again, for giving me so much of it. If I continued writing in England I would definitely be asking questions; but Narnia unfortunately doesn't have many visitors who can help me with research about such questions. And thank you, for enjoying the story and taking so much time to tell me this! I do like the research to be right, so again, thank you!

Response to Anonymousme on chapter 6: My first phone was a flip phone, and I'll admit it left me with a lifelong dislike of texting, unless it's dictated. Thanks for reviewing!


	8. 8: Old Victories

**Chapter Eight: Old Victories**

Disclaimer: as I would rather _not_ end up in a prison myself (and should like to remain honest as well), I admit that I do not own Narnia and this is not for profit.

Even the breaths of Narnian air didn't stay comforting long. Pug rowed them out to a slave-ship and they were (1) taken below into a long, rather dark place, none too clean, where they found many other unfortunate prisoners; mostly Galmians and Terebinthians. There was straw on the floor, broken and scratchy in the darkness, but the Narnians sat together, Edmund and Reepicheep on either side of Lucy with Eustace a bit further down.

Lucy waited till she had some control over her voice, till she was sure it would be firm and clear, though she kept it low. "I wonder what happened to Caspian?"

Edmund put his hand on her arm. "Probably nothing bad, Lu. Did you see the face of his owner?" Lucy thought back. The kindness in it when he spoke to her looked like it belonged on his face, and she sighed with relief and leaned against her brother, just in time to hear Reepicheep exclaim in his high voice,

"They still had no right to lay hands on their K-"

"Peace, Reepicheep," was Edmund's quick rejoiner, very low.

Reepicheep was silent a moment, but added, "They had no right to take _him_ as a slave." And Lucy smiled, warmed, by the indignation of a knight for his king.

"It was his own fault," came a grumpy voice from a bit further away. "If it's part of Narnia like he claims it's _his_ responsibility. It's _his_ fault we're all rotting in a dark prison waiting to be sold. Some king-"

"Shut _up_, Eustace," Edmund snapped, and Lucy felt him fray a bit from the bite in his voice. He was trying to keep them all safe. Reepicheep's valor and Eustace's temper were not helping, and it was her turn to squeeze his arm.

"I don't think Caspian can be at fault, Eustace," she said, trying to take some of the weight off of Edmund's shoulders. "Remember, this was his first ship and his first visit. Who knows, even now Aslan may be using this," and by now she was whispering, "to put the island to rights."

Eustace snorted, a nasty, unpleasant snort. "If it isn't his fault, it's _yours_," he snapped back. "_You're _the one who wanted to walk on that island. _You're_ the one who thought it was a good idea. If we'd sailed around the Cape we'd all be fine. But _you_ wanted to go for a walk." Lucy bit her lip; it had been Caspian's idea, but she had mentioned missing Felimath. She felt Edmund twitch beside her and Reepicheep hissed between his teeth, but Eustace wasn't finished. "And _you_ were some great hero in the old days, weren't you Edmund? And you didn't even see it coming." Edmund went still. "And _you're_ a knight. A knight at two feet high! _You_ had a sword, and how much did that help you? But I wanted to get off that tub in the water, and I went with _you all_, and now I'm locked in a ship's dark cellar (2) about to be sold."

"Oh, do be quiet, Eustace," Lucy said, finally losing her patience at how still Edmund was. She _knew_ his helplessness was eating at him; they were still bound, the door was locked, and Lucy knew they wouldn't have left unless they could free the other slaves or come back for them. The crying in the corner where a group of little figures huddled was hitting Edmund just as hard as it was hitting her, she knew it. But Edmund was the oldest, and the only king with Caspian gone, and he was much like Peter when he was given responsibility for something. "Casting blame won't help anyone," she said, more temperedly.

"And I suppose-"

"_I_ suppose you should listen to the - to your cousin," Edmund commanded. His voice was the voice of a judge silencing an unruly court, a king snarling at a group of carousing soldiers, and Eustace shut up. "She's right, casting blame won't help anyone. And we're not sold yet." His voice changed, back into the thinking, sneaking brother she remembered from so many times before. "Pug said market was tomorrow; we have several hours. Lu, can you try untying me? Back to back; right, lean against me. Just like the time we were captured off of Galma, remember?" Lucy heard the smile in his voice while she let him take some of her weight, keeping her a few inches off the floor so her hands were on top of his. She ran her fingers along his wrists, searching by touch for the knots.

"I remember." She kept her tone lighthearted to match his. "They at least had the decency to lock us in a cabin, though, and there was that very helpful decorative sword on the wall. And you nearly broke your neck getting it, until I suggested I stand on your shoulders."

"And they came in just as you pulled it free, and you dropped it into my hand and jumped off onto the table." Edmund's tone was amused. "They hadn't recovered from the shock by the time I disarmed them. My Valiant sister."

"I have not heard this tale," piped Reepicheep, silhouette in the dark leaning forward with interest. "Did you take the ship?" The two siblings laughed.

"I gave her a sword and dagger from the captors we turned the tables on." Edmund continued telling the story while Lucy got to work. She could feel the knot, and was gently tugging at different parts of it to see if she could loosen the rope. "We tied them, slipped out of the cabin, locked the door, and went to the deck. It was a poorly manned ship; most of the crew was ashore."

"Edmund grabbed a rope," Lucy recalled. It had felt the same as the one under her fingers; slippery and dirty, not well kept. "We let it over the side where they'd weighed anchor and climbed down. Edmund still had a dagger concealed on his person, he was good at that."

"Dwarven-made, a gift from a good friend, Gruffkiln (3). It could cut through anything. Once we reached the water I took hold of the chain attached to the anchor and sawed through it, slowly and quietly, just under the water. By the time the pirates returned their ship was gone, and so were we."

Lucy tugged at the knot one more time and then sat down a moment to rest. "We were soaking wet," she remembered with a grin. "We swam to shore and emerged like a legend of their kings of old, only we were just children, not an old man with a grey beard. But they still called Edmund Beowulf for the rest of that visit. Peter laughed so hard at Edmund's face the next time we visited, when they still hadn't forgotten."

"I was _not_ stupid enough to go seek out a monster below the ocean to fight it on its own ground," Edmund grumbled. But Lucy could tell he was still smiling. "Any luck with the ropes, Lu?"

She shook her head. "I think they've done this too often for us to have a chance," she said quietly. She knew how much that decreased their chances. But Edmund wasn't giving up.

"Reep, why don't you try."

"Were Your M-" Reepicheep broke off at Edmund's sharp whisper of his name. "Were the two of you captured often during your years?"

"_I_ wasn't," Lucy broke in before Edmund could, having the advantage of not currently moving around. She smiled, restored to hope again by the memories. "Susan and I were only kidnapped a handful of times. But Edmund and Peter seemed to make an absolute career out of it, and if they were both kidnapped together, it was often up to the members of the family with enough common sense _not_ to get captured to set them free." A low grumble came from Edmund, but he knew she was right. She and Susan had rescued Peter and Edmund at least as many times as they'd rescued each other. And the two girls _had_ been kidnapped a lot less often.

Reepicheep's small fingers had less luck than Lucy's, and Eustace refused to try, giving his unwelcome opinion before they even asked him. Edmund sarcastically thanked him for his help, and that kept him quiet for most of the night. Lucy and Edmund told a few more stories of captures, rescues, and victories until they realised it was setting Reepicheep's spirits high enough to do something foolish, and then Edmund quieted them down and told them to get some sleep. They would need it if they were to escape tomorrow.

And Lucy, laying down with her hands still bound, thanked Aslan that they were together tonight, and asked for His mercy for their tomorrow. And, strangely, as she stared into the complete darkness of the pirate ship's hold at night, she smiled.

She had forgotten that this, too, was a part of their time in Narnia. Wars, battles, captures; enduring, standing firm, being valiant - it had all been a part of Narnia. One could not be Aslan's own without fighting what His very presence destroyed. She fell asleep content in His paws.

OOOOO

(1) VOTD p. 39  
(2) I am guessing that Eustace would have learned the correct jargon from the others (such as "hold") but intentionally wouldn't use it just to annoy the sailors.  
(3) From Meeting the Legends chapter 12, if you're wondering. I'd like to write the story of Edmund and Gruffkiln's meeting sometime, and how they both end up complaining about Peter

Response to Anonymousme: I hadn't thought of how Reepicheep gets his sword back; I'll make sure to include it! Thanks for mentioning it. WillowDryad is actually the reason I started reading fanfiction. The story "Identity" was what convinced me fanfiction could tell the truth in a way that was beautiful as well as compelling. I read all of those stories, though "Identity" and "At the Sound of His Roar" are probably my favorites.


	9. 9: A Familiar Slave Market

**Chapter Nine: A Familiar Slave Market**

Disclaimer: Narnia is as much mine as are the concepts of honesty and freedom.  
And Lucy's idea at the beginning of the chapter with the ropes belongs to lbernsteinnm, who asked me out of curiosity why the group hadn't done this in the last chapter. They hadn't because I hadn't thought of it, so credit for the idea clearly doesn't belong to me! Anonymousme also requested I make sure Reepicheep retrieved his weapon.

Lucy woke the next morning to the familiar creaking of a ship and footsteps overhead - but not her home ship, she realised. She sat up and winced; her arm had fallen asleep when she'd slept on her shoulder. She tried to move it, to get the circulation going, and bit her lip to stop from yelping. It _hurt_.

A lot of things would hurt that day, she knew, and she took a moment to pray for strength. Then she tried moving her arms again. The rustling of the rope, with the cold beyond shivers, the dark, and the hopelessness, took her to a memory she normally avoided. The memory of Aslan on the Stone Table, bound, where she and Susan spent a cold night weeping and hopeless. She tried to skip to the dawn, of hope, of light, of the first day Narnia was free, but something kept drawing her mind back. It was the rustling, the rustling of the cords around her wrists; the rustling she'd heard when teeny tiny creatures had rebelled against the bonds that held Aslan. They'd nibbled—

"Reepicheep!" her voice hissed, low and urgent. "Reepicheep?"

"Who dares offend your Majesty? Give me my sword, I'll-" the mouse's high voice broke off as he remembered where he was. But he recovered himself almost instantly and turned to Lucy. "Your Majesty called?"

"Reepicheep, do you remember what Aslan said, how you all became talking mice? _You chewed through the cords_ binding Him. Do you think-" and she turned and waved her arms. Reepicheep, as quick to understand as to fight for honor, slid himself forward.

He was quiet a moment, then his piping voice whispered, "You must hold still. My teeth are larger than a normal mouse's, and the ropes are quite close to your wrists." Lucy held as still as she could, trusting completely. It grew harder, however, when Reepicheep's whiskers started tickling her arms, and she felt a strong desire to giggle.

"Oh well done, Lu and Reep," came a whisper beside her, and she turned just her head to see the outline of Edmund sitting up. "Any luck?"

She tugged on her wrists but there was no give. She shook her head and heard a whispered "Please be still, your Majesty," then felt the tickling of fur and whiskers once again. They brushed her arm, her wrist, her fingers, as Reepicheep tried to get an angle where he could chew through the tightly tied ropes. She tried to flex her wrists to give him more room, and felt him still, then-a small movement. And a pain, near the ropes, something cutting into her. Behind her she heard Reepicheep spit, but said, "No, keep going," before he could apologize.

Only he wasn't given time. A voice from the door to the outside opened and someone yelled, "Out, out, the motherless lot of you!" Near the door slaves were stumbling to their feet as pirates descended with rope-whips, looking for stragglers. Eustace came awake with a complaining whine, and Edmund hurriedly pulled Lucy up when one of the pirates approached. He sneered and made the whip whistle, and Edmund hurried them all towards the stairs, stepping between the fuming tied-up Reepicheep and the pirate who threatened his sovereigns. The stairs to the deck were short, and the sunlight blinding; when Lucy finished blinking, she saw the slaves being untied, one by one, and sent over the side. Edmund, glancing around, took all them towards a boat that didn't have many near it yet; keeping them together, Lucy realised. She leaned into him slightly, grateful; but his attention was elsewhere. On Reepicheep.

"I am commanding you to hold your tongue, Reepicheep, no matter the insults." His voice was the stern voice of the man who had commanded troops in battle, fast, uncompromising, disciplined, yet low for secrecy. "It's a slave market. It's going to be humiliating - shut up, Eustace, you're not helping - and our best chance for escape is if they underestimate us. They won't do that if you draw attention. Stay quiet, do what they say, and stay alert. If you get free, disappear. Watch where we're taken, and take word to Caspian. You're small enough you might have the best chance; most humans will underestimate a being your size. You're our best hope outside of Aslan. But you must _stay compliant_."

"Please, Reepicheep," Lucy added quietly. She didn't think his honor would let him refuse Edmund, but her request might make the repugnant task easier to accept. Reepicheep bowed.

"As you command and request, my King and Queen."

He kept his word. They sent him down first, on the shoulder of a pirate sailor, into the empty boat. They untied Lucy - Pug watching the three of them with wary, greedy eyes - and sent her down, tying her again at once she was in the boat, and putting a knife to her throat. She was startled, till she saw he was looking up at those still on the ship and understood. Then came Edmund, who silently sat beside her, then Eustace. Eustace, who was anything but silent. He complained at the roughness of their tying him, told them he had rights, told them he'd set the Prime Minister on them and make a case for child mistreatment, told them they were dumber than they possibly looked, and was, Lucy thought, more unpleasant than she had ever heard him being. And she wondered, suddenly, if that was the way he handled being afraid. Edmund looked for solutions, Peter stood fast, Susan reached out with sense and gentleness, but Eustace had never seen those growing up, and probably wouldn't know how to value it now when he did. All he knew how to do was complain till he got his way. And she closed her eyes, because Lucy knew, from visits to Calormen that slaves retreated from kindness with fright, and that Eustace as a slave would be miserable.

Though he'd make his owners miserable too. She couldn't bring herself to be sorry for _them_, and that bothered her. It might be because she was afraid herself, she thought as the boat scrapped against one of Narrowhaven's docks. Aslan, don't let me be afraid, she prayed as their captors stood to tie off the boat. She looked up and saw, suddenly, the same streets in another time. Streets with similar people, but different sounds; sounds of cheering and joy and welcome, instead of market and busyness and everything that was so familiar but so _wrong_ when kidnapped children were marched publically to be a part of that busyness.

But Aslan had walked here. They'd sailed here and barely made it, a plague hitting them from one sick sailor halfway here. She'd run towards Felimath, seeking solitude to cry (Susan was busy with the diplomats but Lucy'd left her cordial at home). She'd tripped in the streets and been shoved in an alley, and suddenly Aslan had been there, warm breathe around her and the perfume of His mane hanging around her. Aslan had walked here, in these same streets she was; and her fear left. Nothing evil could happen that He would not overcome, just as He had Edmund's betrayal. She raised her head like a queen and took firm steps. Beside her Edmund smiled; he had been worried, she realised, but saw her now.

They were made to wait, in a little cage connected to a stage by a flight of five stairs. While Pug was the only one to bring slaves to _sell_, he was a keen businessman and delayed a while to make sure the crowd was at its peak before bringing out his lots. His kidnapped _people_. He mixed the good with the bad so buyers stayed for the whole thing, but he tended to sell people in the groups he caught them in.

And Lucy's group was soon. Reepicheep was his major attraction, the perfect sell to get the crowd's interest. He sold three slaves separately, two men and a boy. Lucy watched with a wrenched heart; wrenched, because this was as familiar as a friend's house and as horrible as a murdered corpse within it. She had seen this; she _knew_ this. Calormen had slave markets regularly; she'd went to one once and came home with all the slaves her money could buy. Even with all the kindness she'd been able to give, it had taken them weeks to stop from flinching when the white-skinned foreigner who owned them came in the room. Peter hadn't scolded her but had refused to let her free them till they were away from Calormen; both for their safety and the sake of diplomatic peace. And he had forbidden her from going back to a slave market. But she'd heard the calls, the same as any auction, as she walked through Calormen streets, mixed with comments on people as if they were less than the dumb horses Cair Paravel bought. And her heart had ached them.

Now it broke. Now, because even more than before, she could do nothing. Not even when after those three a man came down and grabbed Reepicheep. Reep, who, nose high, ears wide, whiskers slightly trembling, obeyed Edmund's orders and did not resist, who, when commanded by Pug to speak started a gentle, honorable, and passionate speech on the evils of slavery, only to be cut off and who made himself fall silent.

He was sold for twice the price of the boy before him. For Reepicheep, whose courage and faith were priceless. Aslan, go with him.

Edmund was pulled to his feet next, and Lucy reached out her hands and grabbed his, squeezing it as he passed, closing her eyes and praying. She looked up - he was looking back as he went up the stairs, and she smiled, the smile of a girl who remembers that Aslan walks with her. She knew he saw it, and understood.

His bearing, even tied, pinched, and modeled, was that of a king. He sold at once. She marked the one who took him; maybe that person would buy them both. It wasn't a Calormen. Steps down that short flight of stairs; it was her turn, a rough hand on her arm pulling her up. She walked as if she were mounting the steps to the four thrones; this was where Aslan led her, and she would follow. She stood on the platform, Pug's voice in her ears about "dear little gel" (1). She ignored it, meeting the eyes of all those in the audience, especially the one who bought Edmund. One who stayed, she breathed a sigh of relief to see. A man with a tired, empty face and a incongruous expensive-looking but mudstained shirt, who kept his hand on Edmund's shoulder.

But he wasn't looking for a girl, apparently; he wasn't watching Pug, but Edmund, and Lucy bit her lip. She was sold to the man next to him (2), wealthier, with slaves already attending. One came to fetch her, a young man with a keen glance and two gentle hands lifting her down as another slave paid the money to one of the pirates. He took her through the crowd, and, thank Aslan! stood her near Edmund. Too far away for him to whisper in a crowd—and she hoped he wouldn't try, with the man's hand on his shoulder—but close enough he met her eyes and smiled. He looked to her new owner - probably seeing more than she could, Edmund was like that - and relaxed a fraction when the man showed no interest in leaving. Then Edmund glanced around, casually, sweeping all street exits and the crowd and she understood; they were still to look for means to escape. Hers was more likely than his; though bound, no one was actually holding her. She looked to him in question; he shook his head the barest possible distance. No. Not yet. Not while both of them were staying.

Eustace was being sold next.

A few minutes later she corrected herself. Eustace was _not_ being sold. Eustace, who was as dirty as any of them from the night in the damp ship's hold, was giving a scowl that reminded her of Rabadash at his most spoiled, thwarted tantrum after being a prisoner, and apparently no one here was foolish enough to buy such a surly slave. Pug grew desperate - even throwing in Eustace free with other lots (3). As he grew more desperate and Eustace's price was lower, however, Eustace's scowl grew larger, and soon it was obvious no one would touch him. Pug sent him back below and got on with selling other prisoners.

Lucy kept her ears and eyes open—though how were they to rescue Eustace from that cage? when suddenly she heard something new. A tramping of feet measured to a beat, like the soldiers in Cair Paravel's courtyard marching in practice. Closer, louder, more distinct, with a jingling of metal. Edmund saw it too, she could tell, and both their eyes lit up. It could be a rescue; it could be a distraction. Either way, it was hope.

It was Caspian. Aslan's king, coming to do what she could not do in Calormen; to end a trade that should never exist. He climbed the platform, Pug gaping at him, speechless. With him was the man who bought him yesterday, the one who had compassion on his face; below them Narnia soldiers she knew spread out in front of the platform she'd been prisoner on.

"On your knees, every man of you, to the King of Narnia, (4)" thundered the man's voice; and she knelt instantly, though she knew she need not; but this was victory, and obedience would help it along. She saw Edmund doing the same. And her heart smiled, for Caspian's first act was to pardon Pug and his second to free every slave. The one near her, with gentle hands and keen eyes, smiled and yet was crying, hand reaching to his wrist to tear a golden bracelet off. He offered it his former master; all the slaves but one were, many cheering. And her heart filled with gratitude, for here, though slavery existed, it had not broken all those who belonged in it. Freedom didn't bring them fear.

Caspian was holding up his hand for silence. (5) "Where are my friends?"

Pug answered, but Edmund and Lucy added their own calls, slipping forward to see their freed king, the crowd parting before them, whispers of questions following them as the crowd wondered who they were. She ran forward, Edmund at her side, to greet Caspian and clasp his hand, laughing with joy at this. This, the freeing of the captives and the pardoning of the guilty, because today was a day of celebration, and all of her fears were over.

Aslan indeed walked these streets; and He had sent His king to do His will.

Caspian had ordered Eustace retrieved as well, and Lucy and Edmund stayed at Caspian's right and left, ready to offer advice if he needed it. But Lucy smiled with pride to see him handling the monetary demands of the crowd with justice, Pug's complaints with hard truth, and the newly freed slaves with gentleness. She was introduced to Lord Bern, the Duke of the Lone Islands (Caspian must have been doing quite a lot during their night in captivity; she looked forward to the story); and requested quietly that his people help any unsure slaves by bringing them to the castle; she was sure they could help there, and it might help take care of the sudden need for housing. From his look of relief, she guessed there was probably a lot of work to do there; and she would have a chance to make sure they knew they were free—and what freedom entailed. Edmund, catching on soon, helped direct people, and the market soon dispersed, and the Narnian soldiers readied to march back to the newly-filled castle.

But Lucy had one more thing she wanted to do first. A thank you, to a friend and a knight who had done a hard task well. She asked one of the Narnian mail-clad sailors who didn't look like he was doing anything, Pittencream (5), to accompany her (an internal Susan-voice had told her she _must _be accompanied if she didn't want to end up like Peter and Edmund did half the time), and went to a separate cage where she'd noticed the pirates storing good taken from the captives; to be sold later, she presumed. She borrowed Pittencream's dagger, and with a few well-placed blows (thank you, Edmund, for those lessons) she broke the lock and went inside. She gathered her cordial almost instantly; it had been made of diamond and therefore carefully placed where Pug could keep an eye on it; then she searched around, trying to keep things like bags, books, and extra clothing in place, looking for one specific thing. A sword, not much longer than her dagger, and precious beyond measure to the knight who carried it. She found it under a pile of shirts in the back, and brought it out with a smile, pushing herself to her feet again.

"Lu? Lucy? I say, Lu, where are y—oh, there you are." Edmund appeared in the door to the cage, breaking off when he saw what she had in her hand, and he smiled with approval. "Go on then," he said, drawing back for her to pass. He bowed when she did, a gesture of respect he didn't use often, and followed her.

She found Reepicheep by Caspian's side, listening intently to a conversation with the Duke, but turned with alacrity at her calling his name. She knelt in front of him. "For your indignation on the part of our royal personage, for the valor with which you tried to defend us, but most for the humility with which you played your part in looking for our escape, we give you our most royal and grateful thanks." She held out the sword, hilt first, but kept hold of the blade a moment when he reached for it, looking intently at him. "With this we bid you once again defend the weak, the oppressed, and the helpless with all valor and wisdom, and call Aslan's blessings on you as you do so." She released it, and he took it and bowed.

"By Aslan's help I will, your Majesty."

She smiled and looked up; Caspian was smiling. He helped her stand, and Edmund put his hand on her shoulder. "Let's go to the castle," he said quietly. "I hear there's a celebration being planned."

OOOOO

(1) VOTD p. 51  
(2) When Caspian rescues them Lucy and Edmund are quoted as: "'We're here, we're here, Caspian,' cried Lucy and Edmund together." That could mean they spoke at the same time, they were standing close enough their voices overlapped, _or_ they were sold to the same person and were, actually, side-by-side. I chose this one.  
(3) VOTD p. 51  
(4) Dialogue from VOTD p. 51  
(5) Character from VOTD 164,165

Response to Anonymousme: I don't know how to choose! I've loved "talking" with WillowDryad and Psyche from Rose and Psyche, and meeting them in person would be wonderful. I've loved reading almost all of Drag0nst0rm, Aini Nufire, and I've loved select works from Taisi, TrisakAminawn, KCS...and even if they don't write, pretty much anyone who loves Narnia would just be fun to hang out with, to talk about the books and the author, and all of it. My former college roommate and still-good-friend goes to DragonCon once a year (I've never been able to afford it), and I would love to have something like that for Narnia sometime. And to meet people from here there. Maybe if the movies get revived, or the Netflix TV show comes out? If it happens, tell me if you're going!


	10. 10: A New Beginning and Farewell

**Chapter Ten: A New Beginning and Farewell**

Disclaimer:

I didn't write one because it's so obvious I don't own Narnia.

They celebrated with Lord Bern that night. Lucy and Edmund, having helped freed slaves before, spent most of the afternoon running through the castle to help them find their way around, to establish a routine as a base but to show them what it meant to have freedom. ("What would you like to do now that you're done? Yes, you're allowed in the gardens - let's go!" And the slaves gradually gathered around them, Kelta, a slave who'd never known freedom, Gareth, a slave who'd been captured two years before, and Hentle, a gentle giant who had bruises all over his body from the beatings he'd taken for others.) Caspian joined them after a couple hours, asking questions the fearful slaves might want answers to as well, like where Lucy and Edmund had learned to do this. So the first day in the castle was spent listening to legends tell their stories, and then preparing for a celebration of freedom and the return of justice.

Lord Bern joined them much later; he had been most concerned with setting up a good guard and restoring good, old laws. (Caspian helped with the first). His family had come once victory was gained, and Lucy found yet another friend in the Lady Bern, and sat beside her that night at the feast. Caspian raised a toast, to the first of their missing lords, a man of compassion and honor, and Lucy breathed a sigh of happiness. The first Lord had been found, and with him so much _good_ had happened. In that night, she heard an echo of the Lone Islands' past hospitality that rang loudly and long.

All the travelers were given their own chambers, and Lucy slept long and well that night. The next morning she got up, toes and fingers tingling with excitement. Today they reached the boundaries of what she'd sailed in her past reign; today they were going further. She met Reepicheep at breakfast and smiled when he piped, "To the beginning of our real adventures! (1)"

Only they found it _wasn't_ going to happen today. Lucy had been sailing before and berated herself; of course, the _Dawn Treader _must be repaired first, and made ready to go as far as she possibly could. Lord and Lady Bern were handling the provisions, water-barrels, new ropes, and such the ship might need. The four Narnians went out and gathered a group of former slaves at the market who were looking for work, borrowed eight horses (2) from Lord Bern's estate, and went to the beach. Lucy, Edmund, Caspian, and Reepicheep sailed to the _Dawn Treader_ (Eustace complained loudly at the idea of "being forced back onto a floating bathtub; as if _that thing_ could be made more seaworthy"). Lucy ran up and down the sides, tying knots to the ropes that two of the sailors would take back to shore; then the majority of the crew went to land and watched as the _Dawn Treader _was pulled, groaning and creaking, out of the water and onto the shore, rolling slowly higher and higher. The whole group cheered when the last bit of her was pulled above high tide, and Lucy grinned at Caspian's shout. She walked forward and ran her hand over the side, marveling at how high the boat was. Somehow, without Lucy noticing, the _Dawn Treader_ had become as much home as Cair Paravel, and it was as odd to see her grounded as it would have been to see Cair Paravel floating. She grinned at the image and imagined it for a moment; walking out the large double doors and jumping into the sea to swim with mermaids. She wondered if such a thing could be made. But Edmund called her and she turned; Caspian, Reep, and Ed were waving her over. "We're headed to the market, to find the old ship captains," Edmund told her. "We want to see if any of them have gone further where we're going."

Lucy smiled and they were off. But as they entered the market she moved just a little closer to Edmund. The memories of visiting before were overlaid with the memories of people watching her like she was a vase, or a set of tools. She thought back to the laws Lord Bern was establishing, and relaxed a bit. But it was odd, to have seen evil in the lands belonging to Narnia and know it wasn't hers to remedy. Once, it had been. Hers and her siblings. But their task had changed after a few years; people brought them evil situations to solve instead of them going out to hunt it. They no longer had a shattered foundation and were told to build a kingdom. But the need here still felt familiar; as did the rebuilding of the slaves lives. She wanted to _see_ Hentle learning to use his strength to build as well as to shield, to rejoice in how Aslan made him, to find someone to love and to have a large and happy family. To _see_ the keen-eyed slave who'd brought her down from the platform stay with his lord as a freeman, and to see what he'd become, with that bright intelligence and overwhelming joy. She knew he'd probably value his freedom for years; and she wondered what he'd do with it. A part of her longed to stay and do what they'd done in Narnia once; another knew it wasn't her calling. It would be left to the former slaves, to Lord Bern, and to those living here. And to Aslan. It might be the hardest part of being a queen, but a queen of the past; to come for part of a story and have to leave the rest to Aslan, trusting Him with the rest of the story. She hoped she wouldn't have to do that with Caspian, with Reepicheep, with Drinian and the others. She wanted so badly to at least _know_ the end of their stories, even if she wasn't there for all of it.

But that wasn't her place. Aslan was only calling her to be a part of it this time; a reminder of His faithfulness in the past, a show of His strength in the present. The future was something only He could see. She closed her eyes. She had to trust Him with it, whether she would ever know what it was or not. She opened them again. He had still given her a few days to stay, to help. Those would be good, for her and for the Lone Islanders; then she would leave.

Because Aslan had given her a home, one towering on the beach at the moment, with the most skilled shipwrights going over every centimeter (3). Her current future, one Aslan Himself called her to, through a painting in her aunt's house. And that future - Reepicheep's wish had caught her heart. She longed for Aslan's country more than anything else; and her home would soon be sailing there. Soon. Her breath came a little faster. _Soon_.

"Ho, captains!" Caspian's yell from just ahead jerked her out of her thoughts, and she looked ahead to see a group of bearded men talking, one breaking off from talking about "his ship." Caspian walked up to them first, one seafarer to another, and said "I look for news of the seas beyond the Lone Islands." Two of the captains bowed after a moment, and the rest caught on and bowed as well.

"We've tales enough of those lands, your majesty," one said slowly, looking at Caspian with little scepticism, "but it'd be told better with a tankard of ale in hand."

Caspian laughed. "Well said!" he agreed. "Come to the castle and we'll serve some." Lucy looked, and knew from the glances they were sending her that this was one place where she'd be more of an inhibitor than a help; the tales might not be told so freely around a ten-year-old girl.

"I'll stay here," she volunteered, and Caspian nodded. As the group moved off she caught Edmund's arm. "Tell me everything later?" she whispered.

"Sure thing," he responded. "All right by yourself?"

She nodded. "It's still Narnia," she whispered back. "And I'm still a queen here, even if no one knows it." Edmund smiled, bowing a little, then he left. But not with the others, Lucy realised, watching him. He was up to something, and wasn't telling them what. She smiled. That, too, was familiar, and Edmund would tell them in his time.

Unless she figured it out first. She'd have to keep her eyes open.

Till then she walked about the market. It was something she'd done often in Narnia, though usually with a panther or badger at her side. There was much that could be found out just by walking slowly and listening. She heard schoolgirls chattering about a _king_ here in the Lone Islands, and young boys talking about the way the armor shone. She heard, over and over again, how the _Dawn Treader_ had been pulled onto shore, it's dragon head "fierce and open-mouthed, it looked hungry enough to eat me, it did!" and smiled to hear how her home got bigger and the dragon fiercer with every snippet she heard. By afternoon it was large enough to bring an entire army - "they're going to go conquer new lands for Narnia, my dear, I'm certain of it! Maybe they'll bring back things we've never heard of, even more exotic than Calormen oils!" But she didn't hear anything negative about the Narnians, nor any reaction to the new governor. She wondered if they realised that good rulers are involved in the lives of the people they ruled, much more than Governor Gumpas was. She resolved to mention it to Lord Bern that night, and to speak with Lady Bern about the ways she and Susan had found to make the royal family authoritative and yet friendly. It had been a hard balance to strike, and Lucy would be the first to admit having a panther helped. Maybe Lady Bern could make do with soldiers in armor.

That conversation happened late that night, after Caspian and Reepicheep had shared the tales the sea captains had told, (4) wild stories of islands inhabited by headless men, floating islands, waterspouts, and a fire that burned along the water. Or fears of sailing to the edge of the sea to find currents that would wreck boats; or one captain, who thrilled Reepicheep by saying beyond that edge might be Aslan's country. Edmund, who had reappeared sometime in the afternoon, brought other tales from slavers ships he'd somehow managed to gather, that there were no islands worth bringing people off of, and no reliable tales. So whatever islands they found weren't likely to be inhabited by humans. Lucy smiled. She might have known.

The next day the _Dawn Treader_ was once again put to sea; most of Narrowhaven watched from the shore. The food and water were brought aboard; the sailors rowed themselves out; and even Eustace came aboard, though not without much complaining. They had food and water for twenty-eight days (6), and Lucy ran her hands over the deck railing, trying to stop herself from bouncing. _Soon_ had become _today_.

Caspian was the last to come on board. Edmund and Lucy, noticing a new determination in his face, walked over.

"The six lords who were friends of my father sailed east, the last Lord Bern saw them," Caspian said. "And now so do we."

OOOOO

(1) VOTD p. 52  
(2) VOTD p. 52  
(3) VOTD p. 53  
(4) Direct quote from VOTD p. 53


	11. 11: The Storm

**Chapter Eleven: A Storm**

Disclaimer: negative possessive on positively magical story.  
But it's mine all the same.  
Yours too.

A/N: The majority of this chapter's beginning will be quotes from Chapter Five. Everything taken directly from the book, if it cannot be realised by its superior quality, can be recognized by italics. Lewis made this chapter much easier by putting things in Lucy's perspective for me at the beginning. There will be little that's mine. Though it's a telling test for fanfiction; have I been portraying the character well enough what's written doesn't sound off?

_The next few days were delightful. Lucy thought she was the most fortunate girl in the world, as she woke each morning to see the reflections of the sunlit water dancing on the ceiling of her cabin and looked round on all the nice things new things she had got in the Lone Islands - seaboots and buskins and cloaks and jerkins and scarves. _Lady Bern had taken to mothering her, in response to the help Lucy offered so willingly, and the two had become fast friends; before they left Lady Bern had showered her with gifts. It was good to wake up and remember such a good friend. _And then [Lucy] would go on deck and take a look from the forecastle at the sea which was a brighter blue each morning and drink in an air that was a little warmer day by day. After that came breakfast and such an appetite as one only has at sea_.

_She spent a good deal of time sitting on the little bench in the stern playing chess with Reepicheep. It was amusing to see him lifting the pieces, which were far too big for him, with both paws and standing on tiptoes if he made a move near the centre of the board._ Lucy loved those times; but she loved them best when Edmund left the conversations with Caspian and Drinian on navigation and the two conferred strategy. Together, they usually won. But if Edmund was busy, Reepicheep _was a good player and when he remembered what he was doing he usually won. _Edmund called this lessons in strategy; Lucy called it bloodless battles where she still got to _fight_, and loved it. There was joy in a friend's victory if there wasn't a victory for her.

_But this pleasant time did not last. There came an evening when Lucy, gazing idly astern at the long furrow or wake they were leaving behind them, saw a great rack of clouds building itself up in the east with amazing speed. Then a gap was torn in it and a yellow sunset poured through the gap. All the waves behind them seemed to take on unusual shapes and the sea was a drab or yellowish colour like a dirty canvas. The air grew cold. The ship seemed to move uneasily as if she felt danger behind her. The sail would be flat and limp one minute and wildly full the next. While she was noting these things and wondering at a sinister change which had come over the very noise of the wind, Drinian cried, "All hands on deck." In a moment everyone became frantically busy. The hatches were battened down, the galley fire was put out, men went aloft to reef the sail. Before they had finished the storm struck them. It seemed to Lucy that a great valley in the sea opened just before their bows, and they rushed down into it, deeper down than she would have believed possible. A great grey hill of water, far higher than the mast, rushed to meet them; it looked certain death but they were tossed to the top of it. Then the ship seemed to spin round. A cataract of water poured over the deck; the poop and forecastle were like two islands with a fierce sea between them. Up aloft the sailors were lying out along the yard desperately trying to get control of the sail. A broken rope stood out sideways in the wind as straight and stiff as if it was a poker._

"_Get below, Ma'am," bawled Drinian. ANd lucy - knowing that landsmen - and landswomen - are a nuisance to the crew, began to obey. It was not easy. The _Dawn Treader_ was listing terribly to starboard and the deck sloped like the roof of a house. She had to clamber round to the top of the ladder, holding on to the rail, and then stand by while two men climbed up it, and then get down it as best she could. It was well she was already holding tight for at the foot of the ladder another wave roared across the deck, up to her shoulders. She was already almost wet through with spray and rain but this was colder. Then she made a dash for the cabin door and got in and shout out for a moment the appalling sight of the speed with which they were rushing into the dark, but not of course the horrible confusion of creakings, groanings, snappings, clatterings, roarings and boomings which only sounded more alarming below than they had done on the poop._

This went on. And on, and on, with no sunlight to measure days, no peace under the wind to catch one's breath. _It went on till one could hardly even remember a time before it had begun_. Lucy, in a light body that could easily be washed away, had to stay off the deck with Reepicheep. At one point a dripping Caspian looked at them and grinned, telling them that it was just as well the two fiercest spirits on the boat had to stay below; otherwise even the storm itself might run away. He'd been called out with a hurried, hoarsh yell above the storm's unending noise before they could reply. Lucy did what she could, but she remembered, with a flicker of impatience she tried to release, that this had been part of being a queen too. There were things queens simply weren't made for - such as doing dishes in Tashbaan - and it had taken her several years and a lot of Susan's gentle wisdom to realise that setting her hand to every task that came along was foolishness.

No matter how badly she wanted to join this battle. How much she wanted to _help_.

Edmund, who had grown quieter and quieter as he grew more exhausted, told her shortly that at least she _wanted_ to help, and that was better than Eustace.

So she put together cold meals without use of a fire for men too exhausted to eat, wrong out wet clothing so they could pretend it would dry overnight, and prayed for Aslan for their lives. And prayed, as the storm went on and on, for the storm to end.

Twelve days. (Eustace insisted it was thirteen. 1) Twelve days, the most they'd thought they could go before turning back. But finally the storm ceased.

It was a gradual ceasing; the wind dying slowly, the ship groaning less, the rain dropping to something they could see through, then a gentle quiet dripping, then a drizzle. The men left a few people on watch and at the tiller, dropped into their bunks, and slept. For hours.

And when the morning came, they could _see_. Caspian, Edmund, Drinian, Reep, and Lucy took council together.

"We've no mast, your Majesties," was Drinian's grim statement. Lucy turned away from the stump left on the deck; it looked so forlorn.

"Provisions?" Caspian asked.

"We've enough for sixteen days, though all the chickens are gone (2)," Lucy contributed. She'd asked the cook that morning.

"That's not the problem, your Majesty." Drinian nodded towards the large room. "I checked the water barrels this morning."

"And?"

"Two of them were hit with a barrage of oars that came lose in the storm. Made a gap in the wood." He paused. "They're empty."

"How much have we got left?" Edmund asked.

"Enough for six days. Twelve, on short rations. (3)"

Caspian looked grim. "Spread word to the crew. Short rations will have to do."

Drinian nodded, calling a sailor over and having him spread the word. He turned his attention back once the sailor left.

"Where do we go?" he asked in a quieter tone. "Forward or back?"

"We can't go back," Edmund said. "We're eighteen days out, and that was running for most of it in with the strongest wind. It'd take over twenty to get back, and we can't last eight days without water. We'll have to go forward."

"And pray to Aslan for land," Caspian added, agreeing. He looked out at the water. "We've no wind, and no mast, and we can't make the men row on a half pint of water a day. Aslan's our only hope now." He looked back at the group. "But I still think we should put it to a vote. Edmund, Lucy, you agree?" They both nodded. "Drinian, call the men."

The vote was held in short order; with the exception of Eustace, everyone voted to go on. Eustace told them that looking for a land no one knew existed was _wishful thinking_ (4), and Lucy smiled for a moment.

Aslan knew what lay ahead. If He was their only hope, it was, at least, a certain one. They'd live or die as He willed.

But Eustace got worse. Lucy, watching him in between running errands for the men repairing what they could, realised this was worse for Eustace than all of them because he hadn't any hope. All he had were the things he knew, and so depending on something - _someone_ \- he didn't know and didn't believe existed was terrifying for him. He complained more and more, and she tried her best to comfort him, even offering him some of her water. But Edmund, who had learned from Peter not to let his siblings make potentially harmful choices, took her to task, pointing out that what they were drinking was barely enough to sustain life and it wouldn't help Eustace feel any better if she died. She wished there was a way to give her cousin some of her faith.

But all they could do was wait. And pray.

The sailors jury-rigged a mast that caught a little of the wind that came a few days later. Lucy closed her eyes and stood, feeling it. It was good to be moving; the spirits of all of them revived.

Except Eustace. He'd shut himself off completely from hope, and stayed below deck. Out of all the men (or boys) on board, he seemed to need her help the most, and she started visiting him (5) between all her tasks, sitting down and asking him what he was writing in the book he always kept with him.

She tried not to be glad when tasks called her away again; but it was hard to listen to Eustace's misery and not be able to show him that _hope_ was the better option.

She came back again anyway. Because it wasn't in her to give up a fight, and she had hope to spare. But she didn't want to listen to his complaints again, so she gave him a little bit of her water, when Edmund didn't see. He seemed thirstier than her; perhaps it was because he was a boy (6). She felt his forehead, heaped his blankets or took them off, and tried to remember all the things Susan had done to help them feel better.

The next day - six days after the storm ceased, just when their water would have run out if they weren't on half-rations - the lookout saw land. A way off; a very high mountain to the south-east (7). But land. Lucy felt her hopes become certainty, and she smiled as the gentle wind blew them softly towards it.

The next day brought gulls; and a mountain gradually growing. She thought of the mountains of Narnia, the gentle hills of the Lone Islands that would have been lost next to this one. She was so, so glad to see land.

The third day even Eustace stayed on deck all day, watching the land get closer and closer. They drew close enough to make out its shape; the lookout found a bay. The sun was just setting when they dropped anchor, and several of the sailors let down nets to fish, catching a glorious supper. Caspian overruled the suggestion - first given by Reepicheep - that they go explore and find adventure, saying that was too dangerous on the dark. But between the feast, and the extra water Caspian had passed around, Lucy felt she was attending a feast. And she thought it was a lovely way to begin their stay on this island; an island no one from the East had ever found before. She couldn't wait to see what it would bring.

OOOOO

(1) VOTD p. 57  
(2) VOTD p. 58  
(3) VOTD p. 58  
(4) VOTD p. 59  
(5) VOTD p. 61; also, I skipped the incident of Eustace stealing water because it is much more particular to his story than Lucy's. Lucy's reaction isn't mentioned; she would have just been listening, and I'd rather write about what she did.  
(6) VOTD p. 61  
(7) VOTD p. 61

Response to Anonymousme: … I'm not sure how to say this well, so please forgive any unwisdom. As someone who is near thirty, it's probably a different perspective than yours. But I had a friend – my accountability partner for the last eleven years, even though we've lived in different states for almost all of it – who fell in love with a godly, intelligent, and caring man. Her parents insisted she finish nursing school before they could be engaged; a nursing school that was about 10 hours away from where he was finishing his degree, instead of them both continuing to attend the same college. It led to many, many discussions about what it means to honor your parents. And how incredibly hard that could be. It sounds like your own situation is also difficult; it's hard to respect authority when you disagree with it. But my friend, after talking with her parents without being able to change their minds, obeyed. And it led to several difficult years for her. And regrets. But I don't think she argued that it was the right thing to do. Again, I'm sorry of that is badly phrased, or overbearing. It's just a difficult lesson I had to watch someone I love learn. I'm learning it myself, in a harder way now, as God is doing many things in my life I disagree with. Such as the death of two members of my family in the past year, including my younger sister. I have the consolation of knowing He's infallible; parents aren't. But I'm not sure that lessens the command we've been given to honor them.  
Thank you again for all your reviews; and I'll definitely update as I can!

Response to Aslan's Daughter from "Kneel Under Authority," if you're reading this: Thank you for your review! I am so glad you liked that story; I was rather uncertain about it. It is really, really encouraging as a writer to know an experiment went well.


	12. 12: Land of Dragons

**Chapter Twelve: Land of Dragons**

**Update 05/04/2019: **Anonymousme (thank you!) pointed out that I had Shasta listed as a slave, and he was not, technically, a slave. I've corrected that; thank you again for pointing that out!

Disclaimer: I hadn't the imagination to make a disagreeable character into a sad dragon, but I'm certainly glad Lewis did. But no matter how much I love it, it wasn't mine at the beginning, and I don't profit from it.

The next morning dawned; Lucy's eyes opened and she stretched, yawning. She felt better than she had in a while; she remembered! The island, and more water last night, and exploring today! She hurried through dressing, putting on light, sensible clothes as it was hot enough she felt like sweating. Coming to the deck, she took just a moment to look at the island before hurrying to her chores. The bay the _Dawn Treader_ was anchored in (1) was encircled by such cliffs and crags that it was a norwegian Fjord. She rested her eyes on them a moment; would they have time to climb? She took a hurried glance at the level beach in the head of the bay, (2), heavily overgrown with trees that appeared to be cedars, through which a stream came out. Water was close. Behind the cliffs were mountains so tall their tops were lost in the clouds. The entire place was silent, the water in the bay as still as a mirror. It felt like bustling humans would be unwelcome in that oppressive stillness.

But it was land. Aslan sent; a chance to repair and rebuild; even in the heat, she couldn't wait to go to shore and start to repair their home. But breakfast first. She ran with light feet towards the long room to gather food. She came back up and found to her delight that everyone was going ashore to eat, by the stream with plenty of water. She migrated to the boat that Edmund was in, Eustace joining them with his usual scowl; but even Lucy could see he was excited. Though that might be to just get off the boat.

The stream was cool, fresh, and they sat a little up a beach to eat; those who wanted to bathe went further in the overgrown trees and came back refreshed and laughing. Lucy ran here and there among the ones sitting, offering food, talking to Reepicheep, hearing the sailors recount the size of the waves and the strength of the wind. It was a pale, red-eyed, weary company, but one that was together. It was so good to be safe, alive, and ready for making life better.

Caspian let them linger till the rest had soaked into their souls and some strength returned to their worn out bodies. Then he (3) sent four men back to keep the ship, and the day's work began. Two boats went back to the ship and brought the tattered sails and clothes ashore, along with the water casks to be mended. Caspian organized hunting parties (Reepicheep went on one, and Edmund on another) to bring back game for food supplies or supplies in general, and Drinian took two men to look for a tree - a pine, if possible - they could fell for a new mast. Several other sailors gathered what wood they could to take back to the ship and start repairs; a few of them were good-naturedly arguing about who got to do Edmund's trick with ropes and repair the outside; Rhince had the charge of those repairs.

Lucy thought about hunting - it would be exploring a little - but she was also enjoying the group on the beach, and settled down to join the sailors in sewing, taking a huge hole in one of the sails to mend. Pittencream was at one corner, tired eyes staying on the sail, but the other two were chattering cheerfully about what kind of game the hunting parties would be bringing back, and laughing that _they_ would have to climb a mountain while the two mending sails got to sit quietly on the beach. With fresh water right by, to boot!

Occasionally Lucy looked up for Eustace, hoping to see the fear and sullenness drained from his face, but she didn't see him. Maybe he went with one of the hunting parties. She didn't give it much thought after that, one sailor asking her to pass their time by telling a tale; and she smiled, and told one of the stories she'd loved the most, about a prince taken from his twin brother and parents as a baby and taken in by a fisherman who treated him little better than a slave in Calormen, only for the boy to reappear in the hour of Archenland's greatest danger, bringing the news that saved it. It made her smile, because she remembered them, uncertain, eager Cor and mischievous, brave and foolish Corin. She told her tale, not the bards, but the sailors seemed to like it just as much. She could hear the echo of their voices, and King Lune's, and Aravis as the two became friends in King Lune's castle as Lucy made her at home, and the first sail was quickly mended, though sweat made her fingers slip on the needle until she wiped them regularly on her work. She took a ragged shirt next, and listened to the sailor who asked for a tale tell one, of Caspian's becoming king. She liked it; she'd not heard the formal tale before, and of course she wasn't with Caspian for most of it. She smiled again; she preferred Aslan's company anyway.

The sun rose higher and higher behind the clouds, and the hunting parties returned, heading straight to the stream to wash their hands and faces in the cooling water. The one with the three best archers had returned with a pair of wild goats and started a fire to cook them; Edmund's came back with several lengths of wood that could be sawn into planks, and Reepicheep's came back with a collection of herbs and onions they could dry and add to the ship's stores. The men aboard came to the beach, bringing with them a cask of wine per Caspian's orders, and they mixed it with the stream water and added it to the meal. Lucy drank it and lifted her glass with a smile to Edmund; it was Archenland wine, and tasted familiar, and it was good to see Archeland things mixed with Narnian once again. Rhince reported the repairs so far to Caspian while tearing into the meat, and the whole ship's company sat back and relaxed; they were going well, though Drinian and the two men hadn't found something suitable for a mast. Yet.

Edmund, sitting back after finishing his second helping, looked around. (4) "Where's that blighter Eustace?"

Lucy glanced around as well. "I haven't seen him all morning. Caspian, did you see where he went?" Caspian looked up from Edmund's right, and shook his head.

"Come to think of it, I haven't seen him at all. It'd be like him to get out of work. Hang it all, where can he have got to?"

Edmund and Lucy got to their feet; Edmund glanced at Lucy and jerked his head to the right; she nodded, and went left. They walked along the whole crew, glancing everywhere; Lucy poked between the overhanging trees to see if he was asleep. Nothing. She called out "Eustace!" and listened; there was no answer. She frowned, worried, and turned around. When she came back Edmund was talking with Drinian, Reepicheep, and Caspian. Caspian nodded and reached for his horn, blowing it loud and long. Lucy stopped to listen in the ringing quiet afterwards, praying and biting her lip; no sound.

(5) "He's nowhere near or he'd have heard that," said Lucy with a white face.

"Confound the fellow," said Edmund. "What on earth did he want to slink away like this for?"

"But we must do something," said Lucy. "He may have got lost, or fallen into a hole, or been captured by savages."

"Or killed by wild beasts," said Drinian.

"And a good riddance if he has, _I_ say," muttered Rhince.

"Master Rhince," said Reepicheep, "you never spoke a word that became you less. The creature is no friend of mine but he is of the Queen's blood, and while he is one of our fellowship it concerns our honour to find him and to avenge him if he is dead."

"Of course we've got to find him (if we _can_)," said Caspian wearily. "That's the nuisance of it. It means a search party and endless trouble. Bother Eustace."

The search party was organised; Caspian led it. Those who could be spared who weren't on the search party offered to explore the nearest mountains. Lucy went with that group, calling Eustace's name as she went. She found she didn't like exploring half so much when she was worried. The party split up, with careful admonitions to keep the beach in sight and not get lost; they didn't need _more_ missing people. She went with Reepicheep up one of the mountains, reaching the top hot and panting, and walking along the ridge, searching for some sign. They stayed till the sun was setting; then Reepicheep insisted, for her safety, that they return while there was still light to climb down. They came back dirty and discouraged. They found themselves among the first to be back, and she busied herself cleaning up the beach and cooking. It got later and later, and still the main search party hadn't returned. Long after dark, with only the stars and a weak moon to see by, they came stumbling back, cuts and bruises on their arms. Eustace wasn't among them; Lucy looked up at Caspian.

"There's no sign," he said wearily. He looked up at Edmund, who had also drawn close, having taken over organising the sailors who weren't searching. "But we found a dead dragon in a nearby valley."

Lucy felt a chill; Susan had shot one once, and they'd come away fine, but a knight and friend, Peridel, had fought one who raided Narnia's borders and had come back so burned he lost the use of one arm, and three who went with him were dead. But she straightened her spine, remembering what they'd learned of dragons.

"It should be all right," Edmund said behind her. "Dragons are territorial. There's not likely to be another if one was around."

Caspian nodded, exhaustion in every part of his face, before turning around to the search party. "Get some rest," he ordered. "We go out again tomorrow."

But Lucy had a terrible thought. "What if it ate Eustace?" she whispered. Caspian, Edmund, and Rhince heard her.

"It was dead at three o'clock, Lucy," Caspian reassured her. "It looked like it died of old age. (6) It would hardly have been up for killing people a very few hours before."

Rhince muttered something under his breath at that, but Lucy couldn't hear him. She helped the search party where she could and then went to bed in a tent made of ragged sails strung between some of the overgrown trees.

But she woke, very late, by the sound of quiet murmurs. She got up and found the (7) whole company gathered close together and talking in whispers.

"What is it?" said Lucy.

"We must all show great constancy," Caspian was saying. "A dragon has flown over the tree-tops and lighted on the beach. Yes, I am afraid it is between us and the ship. And arrows are of no use against dragons. [Unless they're enchanted, Lucy thought but didn't say.] And they're not at all afraid of fire."

"With your Majesty's leave—" began Reepicheep.

"No, Reepicheep," said the King very firmly. You are _not_ to attempt a single combat with it. And unless you promise to obey me in this matter I'll have you tied up. We must just keep close watch and, as soon as it is light, go down to the beach and give it battle. I will lead. King Edmund will be on my right and the Lord Drinian on my left. There are no other arrangements to be made. It will be light in a couple of hours. In an hour's time let a meal be served out and what is left of the wine. And let everything be done silently."

"Perhaps it will go away," said Lucy.

"It'll be worse if it does," said Edmund, "because then we shan't know where it is. If there's a wasp in the room I like to be able to see it."

Lucy hated it, sometimes, when Edmund was right. But she knew he _was_ right. She also knew, looking around, that not many people people would for the rest during the next hour. And she was right.

The hour passed. She choked down her breakfast (a Queen sets a good example), and surreptitiously checked to make sure Edmund did the same. She lifted a quick prayer for Aslan to be safe, strapped on the dagger she carried with her (not her own, sadly), and waited.

And waited. She passed the time remembering Aslan, the courage His presence gave, and the way everything seemed _right_. She calmed. Tilting her head back she looked at the stars, remembering their names, and the way they too moved at the command of Aslan's great Father. She knew a dragon lived at the same command, and when Caspian finally said (8)"Now for it, friends" she moved easily and confidently to the middle of the group that drew their swords. Reepicheep came to her side and she picked him up to put on her shoulder, allowing him to see. She was glad they were moving. (9) It was nicer than the waiting about and everyone felt fonder of everyone else than at ordinary times. A moment later they were marching. It grew lighter as they came to the edge of the wood. And there on the sand, like a giant lizard, or a flexible crocodile, or a serpent with legs, huge and horrible and humpy, lay the dragon.

But when the dragon saw them, to Lucy's surprise it didn't attack. It _retreated_, backing farther and farther from them till it splashed in the shallows and everyone stopped moving.

(10) "What's it wagging its head like that for?" said Edmund.

"And now it's nodding," said Caspian.

"And there's something coming from its eyes," said Drinian.

The drops were clear in the sunlight, and Lucy saw one fall and hit the shallow waves. "Oh, can't you see? It's crying. Those are tears."

Drinian objected, calling it a trap, but the dragon shook its head. Lucy, looking at him, felt her heart ache. It looked truly miserable. "Do you think it understand what we're saying?" she asked. And felt her answer when the dragon nodded once again; the next instant she felt Reepicheep slip of her shoulder and weave through to the front. He offered the dragon speech, and found it could understand them but not speak itself, and Reepicheep offered it their friendship - for which Lucy was glad - and told it to accept by raising its left foreleg above its head.

It did, and Lucy saw what might be causing its tears. The leg was swollen, clumsy, and looked awful; she mentioned it to the others. "The poor thing - that's probably what it was crying about. Perhaps it came to us to be cured like in Androcles and the lion."

She ran forward, pulling her cordial out from around her neck, and heard scampering feet behind her as Reepicheep followed, then footsteps as a few others did too. She arrived first, the dragon's head higher than hers, and she looked up at it.

"Show me your poor paw. I might be able to cure it." She held up her cordial, and the dragon held out its sore leg quickly. She unscrewed the lid and dropped a single shining drop on the swollen flesh. It instantly decreased, pulling back from the tight bracelet cutting into it. But the bracelet itself remained, and she looked at it, checking to see if she could pull it off for the poor dragon.

"Look!" It was Caspian, and he was staring at the bracelet. His gaze was transfixed, as she might have gazed if she stumbled across the wardrobe unexpectedly back in England. She looked back at the golden bracelet, curious. What drew Caspian's attention?

OOOOO

A/N I'm stopping here because Lewis does, but I'm not quite sure how to end it well. Sorry!

(1) The description of the island is taken from VOTD p. 61  
(2) VOTD p. 61 quote  
(3) VOTD p. 62 quote  
(4) VOTD p. 66 quote  
(5) Entire dialogue and descriptions is taken from VOTD p. 71  
(6) Following line quoted from VOTD p. 76  
(7) The following dialogue section is quoted from VOTD p. 76  
(8) Caspian's line is from VOTD p. 77  
(9) The rest of the paragraph is a direct quote from VOTD p. 77  
(10) Dialogue is quoted from VOTD p.77


	13. 13: Aslan Saves

**Chapter Thirteen: Aslan Saves**

A/N: I'm afraid it's a short chapter. There wasn't much of Lucy here.

Disclaimer: I hadn't the genius to create someone unpleasant enough to deserve the name Eustace Clarence Scrubb, and much less the ability to redeem such a thoroughly dislikable character.

OOOOO

(1) "Look at what?" It was Edmund's voice, Lucy could tell, his curious one.

"Look at the device on the gold," said Caspian, his voice high with excited.

"A little hammer with a diamond above it like a star," said Drinian. "Why, I've seen that before."

"Seen it!" said Caspian. "Why, of course you have. It is the sign of a great Narnian house. This is the Lord Octesian's arm-ring."

"Villiam," said Reepicheep to the dragon, the mouse's tone full of threatening fury, "have you devoured a Narnian lord?"

The dragon's head, so near Lucy's face she could feel the heat rising off it, swung violently back and forth; she flinched, almost ducking as it passed so near her, but her mind was already running to other stories, Lord Kel and his Lady Hanania, how they'd swum as seahorses once… "Or perhaps this _is_ the Lord Octesian, turned into a dragon - under an enchantment, you know."

"It needn't be either," said Edmund. "All dragons collect gold. But I think it's a safe guess that Octesian got no further than this island."

Lucy looked back at the head that was as large as her child-sized arm. "Are the Lord Octesian?" The dragon shook its head again, but slowly - almost sadly - as if - "Are you someone enchanted - someone human, I mean?"

It nodded, up-and-down like a large green bobblehead shaken by a child. It's eyes were still so heart-breakingly sad.

In chorus - she didn't hear who was first - she and Edmund exclaimed "You're not - not Eustace by any chance?" The dragon - Eustace, nodded again, and Lucy hastily stepped back when those eyes teared up and steaming drops as large as a cupful dropped from his eyes into the sea. Eustace-the-dragon thumped his tail in the water, and his tears didn't stop, and Lucy, who hate to see anyone suffering alone, told him it was all right, enchantments were common here - more common - at least, they'd dealt with them before - and when those reassurances didn't seem to help she walked forward, carefully placing her hand on his head to avoid the tears, and even leaned up to kiss the scratchy scaly face. Around her several of the sailors were saying similar things, and eventually Eustace's tears dried.

Of course, the main thing was to get Eustace's story - people weren't dragoned in the normal course of things - and Lucy was one of the most patient as he tried to use clumsy dragon claws to draw letters on the beach; it was like watching someone with a bent stick taped to their elbow try to scratch letters in the sand while branches keep blowing over them and erasing half. But she loved stories and she stayed, and gradually (with Reepicheep's help) pierced together that he'd gone to sleep around another (dead) dragon, probably the one they'd found, and then the bracelet had hurt his arm. But the rest was all smudged letters and frustrated slashes, and by the end Lucy had no better idea of how to un-dragon her cousin than when they began. She hoped they found a way; she didn't think Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta would deal very well with having a dragon for a son. But it wasn't clear what to do.

But something else became very clear; Eustace made a much better dragon then he formerly had a human. Lucy watched as he worked as hard as any of them - in an unfamiliar dragon body, too. He brought back food, took them flying, explored the island, and even wearily but proudly brought back a (3) great tall pine tree which he had torn up by the roots in a distant valley and which could be made into a capital mast.

He was warm and liked being touched, sought their company and their comfort, and Lucy could see that his own sadness was breaking his heart but making him more human than he'd ever been. And she prayed, every night as she watched him keep them dry or watched him slink away, that Aslan would come when the lesson was finished and make him human and whole again. They had no other way to keep him; and Lucy knew they couldn't leave him.

The ship was a few days from being ready to leave when Lucy woke up one morning, the sky the color of pale pink roses. She sat up and looked around; the morning was cool and beautiful, the sky clear, and the stillness restful. Edmund was missing, but that wasn't alarming. He was probably off working on a solution to taking Eustace on board. Soon Caspian's horn blew, and the entire camp woke up, some with grumbling, some with a stretch and a yawn. Lucy went to go help with breakfast.

It was mostly ready - they'd been steadily cooking the meat Eustace brought back, and it was just a case of warming it up and toasting some bread on the fire - so she left to quickly wash her hands. The men were sitting down in a circle to eat when a loud, long cheer caused her turn back. She ran forward - and there, walking into the circle round the campfire, were Edmund and Eustace!

Eustace, with a look on his face he'd never seen before. A little shy, rather uncomfortable, but with a joy he'd never had (bullies can't have it). She smiled, running forward to hug him, and looked over his shoulder at Edmund. "Aslan," Edmund mouthed, and she smiled and hugged Eustace tighter, letting him go when he started squirming. Well, he wasn't used to hugs yet.

He turned to Caspian, apologising - another first! - and, at the numerous requests from around him, sat down to breakfast to tell the tale of his becoming a dragon. Lucy listened attentively; reliving her own climb in his, hearing of the cave filled with treasure with a shudder - to sleep in a dragon's cave would be terrifying - and of his awakening the next morning with a sadness that turned to joy when she remembered he was free.

Free, and better. Better for this adventure, for being transformed; for coming to Narnia.

And in her heart she was deeply glad, that she belonged to a place that made bullies better. That gave them a chance to start a different life.

But Eustace's adventure wasn't quite finished. He'd helped to find the second of their missing lords; and he still had the bracelet with Lord Octesian's crest. Or she thought he did; apparently he gave it to Caspian, because Caspian came and offered it to her.

She didn't really want it; it seemed to belong with him, as an additional marker to the one Caspian carved for him, in a place where no one else lived. A memorial made by something he cared about. Caspian seemed to agree, for he threw it in the air, and it caught on one of the cliffs, on a protruding rock. It was the last thing she looked at when they rowed out to the _Dawn Treader_. It seemed a little sad, and she wondered if they'd ever learn Lord Octesian's story, or if it would be one of the ones only Aslan knew. If he had fought the dragon and bought his companions time to escape; if he had been turned into a dragon and had to say goodbye; if the other lords mourned him.

The bracelet was small, and soon out of sight, and Lucy turned from it to look at the _Dawn Treader_, repainted, restored, and ready to sail. Whatever Lord Octesian's story had been, Aslan knew it. As Aslan knew theirs. She was excited to see where He led them next.

OOOOO

(1) Dialogue directly quoted from VOTD p. 79...we're almost halfway through the book! Most of the long interjections are my own.  
(2) Since C.S. Lewis doesn't clarify who said this line, I'm just leaving it unattributed.  
(3) VOTD p. 81

Response to Sweet Sun: I'm sorry you're not feeling well; I hope you get better soon! I'm so glad my writing is a good thing in your life, and I hope that continues; thank you for reviewing, and for your encouragement!


	14. 14: The Diary of a Young Queen

**Chapter Fourteen: A Young Queen's Diary**

Disclaimer: I've written diaries, and I even wrote this one (which was a good deal more than writing mine), but the characters in it and the world they lived in aren't mine.

Dear Diary:  
I know you didn't belong to me at first; but Eustace says he doesn't want to look back and read what he wrote before. But it seemed a shame to waste the rest of his story; so I'm keeping you, as a gift from the him Aslan saved. So here's a new beginning.

_September the 24th (1):  
_We left Dragon Island with an un-dragoned cousin on September 22nd. Eustace is changed so much. I remember how meeting Aslan does that. It did it for Edmund; I think Eustace's change is reminding him of that. He smiles whenever I talk to him about Eustace's difference. But I remember Edmund and Susan describing how scared Cor was when they met him in Tashbaan, how silent or stuttering; when I met him after he'd met Aslan, he had the courage that does what is needed even when scared. Or dear Mr. Tumnus. I miss him; I miss all the Narnians from them. But I'm so glad we got to come now with Eustace.

Anyway. I like you, diary. I can talk all the nonsense I want and not worry that people are going to read the diary of a queen. But I'd better keep you at least somewhat organised; good habits keep, Mrs. Beaver started saying. So I'll try.

We had a good wind, once we got out of the bay, and the _Dawn Treader_ moved with the waves as if eager to prove she was shipworthy again, Drinian said. But it was a short test! We made it to the island we saw when flying on Eustace adragonback. (I wonder what Aunt Alberta would say if she read that? I'd better not take you back to England, dear diary. Or find a good place to hide you.) There wasn't much there; ruins of small stone buildings, the stone hewn roughly but firmly (Edmund tried to budge a wall and couldn't move it). A few blackened pits from fires; and some of the sailors found bones with broken weapons. They ran for the lifeboats. You'd think, dear diary, after sailing with them for weeks now I'd remember how superstitious sailors are; but I didn't. As if we're anything more than bones ourselves, underneath! I think I got that idea from Susan, though I'm sure she said it much more gently. The broken weapons interested the kings and lords for a bit; Caspian thought they were pirates, but Edmund pointed out it could just as well be the dragon's work.

We didn't find anything else, except a small coracle (a small woven wooden circle, dear diary, because I don't think Eustace knew what they were) that was perfect for Reepicheep. We brought it on board, rowed the remaining boat to the ship (thankfully the sailors left us one), and drew up the anchor. I think it was Rhince who first started calling that island Burnt Island, and the poor thing, the name stuck. There was a lot more to it than the blackened circles, but oh well. Maybe it doesn't mind.

That was yesterday. Since then we've caught a south-south-east wind, and haven't seen a sign of life. It's a good, strong wind, and we're running before it. We're doing chores, and standing on the deck, and talking to each other. No storm, no dragon, no mysterious ruins. Just us and the ship. It feels so much like home, diary dear.

_September the 26th:  
_The wind is still strong. It makes Drinian happy, on his turn at the helm. He stands just like picture books have captains stand back home, a hand on either side, head up, eyes searching, feet apart. I remember one of the voyages on _Splendour Hyaline_, with Captain Mousewatch. Like Reepicheep, he only came up half the wheel's height, and to turn it he almost ran up the wheel. But we couldn't have asked for a more vigilant captain. He knew every inch of that lovely ship, and nothing escaped his notice. It was funny to see him command the centaur on board, though.

_September the 27th:  
_Still running before the wind. The mast is holding with not even a creak; I mentioned it and Eustace smiled. So I asked him to tell me about how he got it. He explained all about ruining two trees with his claws before finding that one, and tried demonstrating with his fingers, and forgot all about telling us about the time he actually did get a tree. But he was happy by the end of it. Edmund whispered to me that he'll never make a Narnian storyteller, but that doesn't matter. He still makes a good _Narnian_, and that's what's important.

_September the 28th:  
_Still a strong wind. Aslan sent, Caspian says. He loves the sea, and can spend hours watching the wood hull break through the waves. I think he loves exploring, racing over the ocean that wraps this world. Or not wraps, really, because this world might be flat. I wonder why Aslan made it that way?

We did all the laundry today, hanging it to dry in the wind. It was white and red and blue, color after color, hanging on lines all over the ship. I persuaded Edmund to play a game of Tig between the drying clothing. It was great fun; if you ran into clothing you got damp. We pulled Reepicheep in (he loves anything competitive), and he had the unfair advantage of being able to duck under anything. But when I said so he refused to take advantage of it, and stood as tall as possible to hit the flapping undersides. It made him slower, but he's still fast enough he dodged most of us. We got four sailors and Caspian to join in as well; then even Eustace. We all ganged up on Reepicheep at the end, corralling him, and caught him at last. (It was Edmund's idea.) I love these days.

_September the 30th:  
_Dear Diary, it was a horrid day yesterday. I suppose I shouldn't complain. But it _was_. And Aslan Himself cried for sorrow and moaned, for misery. That rather puts my day in perspective, perhaps—He was there with us—but I don't think there's anything wrong with telling the truth. It was an awful day.

The wind died, and it rained. The cold rain that I remember unfondly from long rides in Narnia. It always soaks through cloaks and clothing and skin itself, to chill the whole body. Edmund, Eustace, Reepicheep and I were in my cabin, and Reep and Eustace were playing chess. Eustace has gotten quite good - he has, really - but Reepicheep is _very_ good, and Eustace lost twice. And it made him unhappy, and being unhappy made him want to make others miserable, just like before. It reminded me how far Aslan's brought him; but it didn't make him welcome company. It was hard to see him becoming-

Oh. I see now. I think Aslan sent what happened next to stop Eustace from sliding back into his old self.

I looked outside and the rain was stopping, and I saw something. It was odd; I remember thinking it looked like (2) smooth rounded rocks above the sea, a whole line of them with intervals of about forty feet between. Drinian was staring at them, telling us they couldn't be rocks, because they were appearing and disappearing. It seems so obvious now, but it wasn't then, we had no idea what it was. It was coming closer, chasing the ship, moving faster than we sailed. Caspian joined us, and we watched, breathless, seeing it get closer, wondering what it was—knowing we couldn't get away.

Then it's head came up. It was an awful green color with purple blotches, bigger than than cars in England, horrid huge eyes that could see through water, and a (3) gaping mouth filled with double rows of sharp fish-like teeth. It's neck seemed so _long _as it rose higher and higher, and we realised it wasn't a neck, it was the body to the serpent's head - a Sea Serpent, as ugly and fearful as the merfolk's stories. It's head rose higher than our mast (4).

We ran for our weapons, my dagger in my cabin, back out to the main deck. It was too far away to reach, but we didn't want it to get closer. (5) "Shoot! Shoot!" came from the deck; I heard the _twang_ bowstrings as arrows released, but the arrows bounced off. I couldn't help thinking Susan would have shot it's eye out.

(6) It shot its head forward across the ship on a level with the yard of the mast. It was fast as the arrows had been, going up and over, then plunging down into the sea on the other side, an ugly rainbow right above us.

A slimy rainbow that began to grow smaller, closer, the Sea Serpent nearly touching the starboard side. Then Eustace - complaining Eustace who'd just been trying to make us miserable - ran to the starboard side and as soon as the Sea Serpent was near, started stabbing it with all his might. The sword shattered to pieces, but I saw Eustace's face in that moment, and it was the face of Aslan's own.

Of course it didn't do any good _outwardly,_ since the sword shattered. And Reepicheep screamed at us not to fight but to PUSH. And he did it, at the same time, setting his tiny furry back against the serpent and pushing it back, back, towards the bulwark, with everything he had in that tiny body. And then everyone understood, and rushed forward. (7) I remember pushing against the serpent itself, it's slimy skin under my fingers, and doing no more good than Reepicheep with his tiny body. A sailor pushed me out of the way, setting his back to the serpent; the next man pushed on him, back to chest, and soon all them were pushing, two lines, one on either side of the ship. I ran to Reep; I hadn't helped with the serpent, too small, but I could help here. He was nearly fainting from the effort he'd done, but he'd done enough. It was working, they'd listened, the two lines of men. The serpent was moving. Or the ship was. We were passing under it.

But it was still getting smaller. Aslan, I prayed, let us be in time. It fit over the poop - barely - resting on the rails. The men fell out of line to push on the serpent itself; I got up, I had to help, we were _almost_ there, but then I heard Caspian yelling (8) hoarsely "An axe, and still shove!" I ran below, got the axe, and rushed up the ladder; we had to chop off the _Dawn Treader_'s dragon tail. (9) But just as I reached the top there came a creat crashing noise like a tree coming down and the ship rocked and darted forward. I saw the loop had tightened, breaking the wooden tail, and the ship was free. The men collapsed, breathing in pants, and I looked behind us, praying to Aslan the serpent wasn't chasing us again. But it wasn't; the loop disappeared with a splash, and the creature looked idiotically satisfied (10). It began nosing about, looking for our floating bodies to eat (_ugh_), and letting us slip away. I looked at Edmund, Caspian, Eustace; they were laying back, and Caspian and Edmund had even begun to laugh. We'd won, we were alive. It was battle euphoria, and I knew (Susan had taught us well) that we'd all be feeling it, so I ran back down the ladder, put the axe away, and went for the rum. I leaned my head against the barrel for a moment.

"Thank you, Aslan," I whispered, then I grabbed a pitcher, filled it with rum, and grabbed a handful of glasses. The sailors greeted it with a cheer, and pulled themselves to sit against the sides of the deck. When everyone had some Caspian raised a toast - to Eustace's courage and to Reepicheep's common sense ("overcoming his valor," Rhince muttered. That made me giggle, but not where Reep could hear me).

And that, I think, might be why Aslan allowed the Sea Serpent. Eustace is now further forward than he ever has been - on a day when he was turning back. That's more than worth my home's broken tail and his own broken sword.

OOOOO

Two A/N: One, does this format work for people? I'm thinking about writing more of the entries as her diary, but wanted to ask if people like it, are indifferent, or dislike it?  
Two (long and personal), I finished _The Lemon Tree: An Arab, a Jew, and the Heart of the Middle East_ two nights ago; I finished another book last Sunday. And I realise I'm writing enough that I'm not really reading nearly as much anymore, and my bookshelves (specifically the unread shelf) are noticing. So I'm going to take a week break; after today I probably won't post anything more till a week from Tuesday. It's not me giving up, it's me taking some time to catch up on other things as writing gets more and more fun. Just so you have some forewarning. I'll be writing the three letters I've been meaning to write for a month (I'm blessed enough to have people who actually _write_ to me, my grandmother and two friends), read at least four new books, and hopefully come back better able to write because I've taken time to read.

(1) If there are those wondering how I arrived by the dates in Lucy's diary, here's what I found: they went ashore on Dragon Island on September 12th; they went to fight Eustace as a dragon the next day. Six days after they landed on the island Edmund woke up to discover a human Eustace; September 18th. It was "in a few days" that the _Dawn Treader_ was ready to sail. I put that as September 22nd. They came to Burnt Island the next morning, September 23rd. They ran before a wind for five days, ending September 28th. Then came the rainy day, September 29th, and the sea serpent was the next day. After that they sail for three more days, and that's when Lucy writes her last entry.  
(2) VOTD p. 90 quote, though I added "above the sea" to the middle of the sentence.  
(3) VOTD p. 91  
(4) VOTD p. 91  
(5) Short dialogue from VOTD p. 91  
(6) VOTD p. 91, 92  
(7) Lewis doesn't have Lucy helping to push - which I found out of character if there's no explanation. So I created the explanation of my own; she tried, but realised she'd do as much good as Reepicheep.  
(8) VOTD p. 93  
(9) VOTD p. 93 with pronouns changed.  
(10) The exact quote is: "Lucy always said (but of course she was very excited at the moment, and it may have been only imagination) that she saw a look of idiotic satisfaction on the creature's face." But Lucy didn't sound like she had any doubts about what she saw, so I didn't include them.


	15. 15: The Glamour of Gold

**Chapter Fifteen: The Glamour of Gold**

_October the 1st_: Dear diary, it's a new month. We've been back in Narnia - back _home_ \- for long enough I barely remember Aunt Alberta's back bedroom. The cabin is so much nicer; but it's nicer because of the people who come in it. I am not sure how much I'd like the cabin if Uncle Harold was my main visitor.

I shouldn't say that, diary friend. Eustace changed. I love it when Eustace visits. He's family in the way only other Narnians can be, ones who have been _here_. Maybe someday Aslan will change Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta too. I hope for Eustace that He will. But it took Eustace transforming into dragon to change him. I wonder what it would take for grownups like my aunt and uncle?

_October the 2nd_: I don't have much to say about today. But that's all right, because I'll probably remember it anyway. You wouldn't think it, but it's days where nothing happens but sailing and living that are the best. The most like home, like _Narnia_. Because Aslan puts joy there.

_October the 4th_: There's been a growing gale, but land in sight. We're trying to get there today, but that means rowing. Lots and lots of rowing. Sometimes, diary, I wish I was bigger. Like I used to be, hundreds of years ago. (Isn't that funny to think about?) I could take a turn then. But I said as much to Reep and he told me that Aslan puts the most valiant hearts in the smallest of bodies, because then the whole world sees it's Aslan who does the overcoming.

_October the 7th_: I don't want to write about what happened on that island. I've put it off two days, thinking I'd write about it after I talked to Edmund; after I thought about it more. But I still don't like it.

Except for Aslan's part. But not ours.

But our stories are His, so they should be told. I think I read sometime that the dark and disagreeable map our discoveries of the light. Though that may have been Purpoise (1). But it was right; we _do_ find out things about the light when it rescues us from the dark. And so, dear diary, here's what happened on October 5th.

The bay we anchored at had two streams; Caspian and Drinian were discussing which one to anchor at when it started to rain very hard. It was very cold; not the Dryad or Naiad dancing type of rain at all. Edmund said we should head for the western stream, as it had trees to shelter us from the soaking sky-falling water.

Oh. I hadn't thought of that. We were headed towards the Eastern stream - Drinian was steering us that way - when we were discussing that. And he didn't want to change. But Caspian told him to, because all of us agreed with Edmund, and while Drinian wasn't happy, he did it. And such a good thing he did (2)! Dear _Dawn Treader_ would have never floated again if we'd watered at the other one. The rain must have been Aslan sent.

Because, dear diary, He was there. You'll see.

We filled the water casks (under the trees, and they smelled _lovely_ in the rain. It's one of the things I miss when in London; rain has a very different smell there). Caspian, Edmund, Eustace, Reep, and I all decided to go exploring. It was all coarse grass and heather, and might almost be an English moor, taken out of England and stuck in the middle of a Narnian sea. It was a small island, though, and the sea looked larger and more desolate (3) than it does from the _Dawn Treader_. When your home is sailing on the sea the sea is a part of home; but the sea doesn't look like home from an English moor. Eustace told me it was crazy, you know, to go sailing on and on into _that_ with no idea what we may get to (4). But he didn't mean it in a nasty way, like he would have once, but more like a professor making a remark to himself. Then Edmund, Eustace, and Caspian started debating what _adventure_ meant and how valuable they were, with Reep listening in.

But we got cold (especially Eustace, who wasn't dressed for an adventure. We had Susan to teach us to take along coats, but he hasn't yet), and decided to go back. But I suggested we go a different way down; I wanted to see the other stream. Maybe - though it wasn't likely - there'd be a naiad in it.

We got there, and there wasn't. The stream itself was curious, a more interesting place than I expected; a deep little mountain lake, surrounded by cliffs except for a narrow channel on the seaward side out of which the water flowed (5). It was out of the wind, and we sat down to rest. I think he probably did the same - but maybe because he was hot, after a stiff climb, and then -

I was taught storyteling in Narnia, I should know better then to put the end in the middle. But I can't help thinking about him. I hope he never knew.

We sat down (my seat was a little hard), and Edmund jumped right back up; he'd sat on something sharp. It was a rusted sword, so rusted there wasn't much left of it; Caspian went to look at it and said it looked Narnian. I put my hand on my seat and felt metal; small rusted circles, linked together - a chain-mail shirt. Of course we were all curious then, and went about on our hands and knees patting down the heather (a bunch of grown-ups, kings and queens! Diary, it probably looked funny). Eustace and Reep found some Narnian coins, Caspian found a helmet, and someone (I forget who, it was at the same time as the helmet) found a dagger. Edmund thought it must have been one of our Narnian lords; no one else had sailed for over a hundred years.

But he didn't stop with that. He asked how the lord had died; there weren't any bones, so the body was gone (I hoped so; I didn't want to sit on any bones). But it couldn't have been a fight, because the winner would never have taken the body and left the clothes. (We didn't know. It makes so much sense, in a sad way, after we solved it, but…)

I wanted to get away by that point; to find all the relics of a Narnian but not the Narnian himself ate at me; it happened too long ago to fix, but the place made me uneasy. So we left, heading for the opening where the stream came out. We paused there, just to look at the lake, and Reep and I looked at the stream, with it's perfectly clear water, and we saw him.

A body. We thought it was a statue at first. A golden statue, perfectly made made, face downwards with its arms outstretched, clear against the blue-grey stones of the stream. Just as we looked, the clouds parted and the sun shone out. The golden shape was lit up from end to end (6). I remember thinking it was the most beautiful statue I'd ever seen; gold, lit by sunlight.

All of us were amazed. We talked about getting it out, moving that much gold. Edmund decided to measure the depth of the pool with his hunting spear, and let it down. But as he lowered it further through the water, I realised it looked the same color as the statue; and then he suddenly dropped it. He said it got so very heavy, he couldn't hold it. And then his voice rang out, the voice he used when the Calormenes came for Susan and he told her to run, the voice he used when a faun was thinking of opening a window and didn't know there were stones being thrown off the tower to shore up the sides, the one that makes people run to obey, it's so sharp. He told us to get back, away from the water. And then he showed us the tops of his boots.

They'd turned into gold; I bent down and touched them, and it was that soft metal feeling that we used for our goblets at feasts. And then -

It wasn't a statue at all. There, right there, was our missing Narnian. He'd been turned into gold the instant he dived in the pool. He never came back out again. And we all shuddered with the realisation that it might have been our fate; Eustace had been bending down to drink.

Most of us did. But - Caspian wanted to test it. He - very carefully, you know - pulled up some heather and dipped it in the pool, and it too came out as gold. And his face -

I'd seen it most often in dwarves, the greed wealth inspires. But it catches kings too. It seems like the answer to all of our problems, that if we just had enough money we could buy food to stop a famine, to build an army, to build ships for trade, to pay for repairing roads and homes after a flood. There can never be too much of it. When it goes from a tool to the _answer_, though, it does a bad thing to king's hearts. And it did it to Caspian's. He stood up, beautiful gold in his hand, and told us to never, ever tell anyone about this island, on pain of death; it was to make him the richest king in the world.

And Edmund rebelled. He'd been rebel for years, long before we ever came to Narnia and Aslan made him king. There were times he only accepted Peter's authority because he accepted Aslan's. And he didn't accept Caspian's.

And I was shouting at them to stop, to stop being bullying idiots (7) when I saw Him. He was pacing, as large as an elephant, on the grey hill above us, and He was both light and gold. But His gold never, ever brings greed, and diary, He was shining more brightly than the sun when it lit the statue.

None of us saw how He went. He left, and took with Him the anger, the greed, and much of our memory of those past few minutes. Reepicheep named the island Deathwater Island. We came back on board, remembering that we'd found one of the missing lords, and little else. It's only in writing it that I've remembered. Remembered mainly because I miss Him. I want to see His face again.

It's what I've been longing for, even more deeply than I longed for Narnia. Even the _Dawn Treader_ feels less like home, because all I want is _Him_. From the moment we fell into Aunt Alberta's picture I've hd been answering His call, waiting to see Him. And oh, to see Him like this! But it was good. _He_ was good. He has His own purpose for Deathwater and we weren't right to try to take it, and so He took our mistakes away. But then He left as well. And diary, I miss Him terribly.

OOOOO

(1) The turtle from "A Turtle's Tale," another story I'm working on. He gravely inserted himself here; and I could see him saying something like that, since seas grow so dark at the bottom.  
(2) A statement from VOTD p. 95 paraphrased.  
(3) VOTD p. 95  
(4) VOTD p. 95,96  
(5) VOTD p. 96  
(6) VOTD p. 98  
(7) Lewis's insult, not mine, from VOTD p. 100

Response to Anonymousme: I corrected the statement that said Cor was a slave, because you're absolutely right, he wasn't. Thank you for catching that for me. I've read about 2/3rds of the stories you recommended, but not on break - the point was to go read BOOKS. I've missed them. :) I'm a lady and a hooligan and a hostess and a child-at-heart; definitely female. Thank you, for all your reviews! I did want to let you know, I haven't found one for A Turtle's Tale; not to say you have to review, but you mentioned reviewing it (and it being a long one) on your dad's phone, and it never appeared. So I'm sorry I can't respond to it. I'm actually going to be rewritting Kneel Under Authority - eventually. It's low on the list. But I agree it needs some work. however, I capitalised the races the way I did because Lewis did that. And he took some mythology that was common but also changed some things, so when I'm in his world I try to work with his rules. I hope that makes sense! Thank you, again, for all your reviews!


	16. 16: What's Needed is a Little Girl

**Chapter Sixteen: What's Needed is a Little Girl**

Disclaimer: I might be tempted to say I own voices that echo out of thin air - think of the material for pranks! - but I'm pretty sure the voices themselves would stop me. In chorus. Repeatedly, because that's what Dufflepuds do. Keep it up, chief, keep it up.

A/N: I think I'll keep the diary format for adventures that aren't Lucy's, as it lends itself to her reflective take on things. However, enough of the following chapter is from Lucy's point of view I didn't want to do that. This will be another chapter that is more than half quoted directly from the book; anything _italicised_ is a direct quote from VOTD, chapter 9.

OOOOO

Lucy woke before dawn with a strange feeling in her heart and lay staring at the cabin ceiling. Today was the last day.

It had been nearly two weeks since Deathwater Island, and the wind had changed to a western one that had sent them on straight towards the morning sun. It had been a _gentle yet steady breeze_, giving them day after day of onward sailing. But all that had been visible was the sea, a sea with _neither fish nor gull nor ship nor shore_, and Lucy had seen fear start to creep into faces as their stores ran lower and lower. Before she could address it, Caspian himself had. He'd called the crew together and told them that after a certain time, they would turn around, and sail back towards provisions and land. Today was that day, and it was doing strange things to Lucy's heart.

The _Dawn Treader_ was home. Narnia was, too, but it wasn't _her_ Narnia. For some reason she couldn't explain she'd been certain she wouldn't go back to Narnia this time, but only onward. She could be wrong, of course she could be wrong, but she wasn't ready for this adventure to end. They hadn't even found all seven Lords.

But there was one more day, she reminded herself, and Aslan sent things only in His good time. She got up and dressed in the dark, opening the cabin door as quietly as she could, heading to the side to look over the railing. False dawn, the light beginning before the sun rose, and still the sea. She wondered how her home had become something that never stayed, never bore roots.

Steps sounded behind her, steps she knew, and she leaned against Edmund's shoulder when he rested on the rail beside her. "It's the last day," she said quietly.

"Cheer up, Lu. We don't know what today brings." His voice was cheerful but absent, and she looked over at him.

"What are you thinking about?"

His eyes studied the sea without really seeing it. "What will happen when we return to England," he admitted. "It might be soon. And it will be hard for Eustace." Lucy's eyes went wide; she hadn't thought of that.

"Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta…"

"They'll be of no help to him. It was hard enough for me, going back, and all I had to fight against was expectations. People thought they knew how I'd act. But except for a friend group I didn't care for anymore, people were pleasantly surprised to find I'd changed. I don't think our dear relatives will be quite so thrilled at the change in their son." He ran his hands over the railing, back and forth, his way of thinking when he didn't want to pace. "I'm not quite sure how to help him, except from a distance. We won't be there more than a couple months."

"But we'll be there for those months," Lucy said firmly. It was what Susan would say. Susan would do what she could, from America, but - "We need to make sure he meets Peter," she said. Edmund turned to look at her, and she shrugged. "I think it will be easier for Eustace if there's someone in England he can follow."

"And Peter is easy to follow," Edmund said, memories lighting his face with a smile.

"He's the High King," Lucy agreed. She leaned back against Edmund again, watching the sun coming over the water and wondering at Aslan's timing. It was easier to bear the thought of going back when she had something to _do_ there - something queenly and generous.

"Land ahead! Land ahead!" The cry was from the lookout, and Lucy found herself forgetting all about going back to England as she and Edmund scrambled for the lookout's post. There, _right ahead between them and the sunrise, _was_ a low land lying like a cloud_. A smile broke over her face; another adventure! She laughed with the joy of it, her laugh ringing with the voices of sailors and friends who gathered around her and Edmund, excitedly discussing the new island. All the fear had disappeared, and she couldn't help feeling they had been foolish to fear at all.

_They made harbour in a wide bay about the middle of the afternoon and landed. It was a very different country from any they had yet seen. For when they had crossed the sandy beach they found all silent and empty as if it were an uninhabited land, but before them were level lawns in which the grass was as smooth and short as it used to be _before the mansions of the wealthy in England. Lucy glanced at Edmund, at Eustace, walking on one side of her, and could tell they were startled too. One didn't expect to find England here. The trees, too, _of which there were many, all stood well apart from one another, and there were no broken branches and no leaves lying on the ground. Pigeons sometimes cooed but there was no other noise._

_Presently they came to a long, straight, sanded path with not a weed growing on it and trees on either hand. Far off at the other end of this avenue they now caught sight of a house - very long and grey and quiet-looking in the afternoon sun._

_Almost as soon as they entered this path Lucy noticed that she had a little stone in ehr shoe. In that unknown place it might have been wiser for her to ask the others to wait while she took it out. But she didn't; she just dropped quietly behind and sat down to take off her shoe._ She would catch up in a minute; they wouldn't be out of sight. But_ her lace had got into a knot_, of course, and by the time _she had undone the knot the others were a fair distance ahead. By the time she had got the stone out and was putting the shoe on again she could no longer hear them. But almost at once she could hear something else._ A strange thumping noise, _as if dozens of strong workmen were hitting the ground as hard as they could with great wooden mallets. And it was very quickly coming nearer_, from the direction of the house the others had walked towards. Lucy _was already sitting with her back to a tree, and as the tree was not one she could climb, there was really nothing to do but to sit dead still and press herself against the tree and hope she wouldn't be seen. _It had worked before, back in Narnia, and she prayed it would now.

The noise grew closer; closer; then it was right on the path in front of her. Lucy _knew it was on the path not only by the sound but because she saw the sand scatter as if it had been struck a heavy blow. But she could see nothing that had struck it. _The other thumps were closer, too, but passing her by; they all collected about _twenty feet_ away and went dead silent.

Silent, until a voice spoke. Still Lucy could see nothing; but invisible things weren't unheard of in Narnia. Though looking around and seeing England made it somehow more dreadful, _quiet and empty_ England with disembodied voices like a group of cheerleading ghosts. Ghosts led by one called Chief who planned to _get down to the shore between _the Narnians _and their boat_. Ghosts with weapons in hand. The chorus of voices agreed wholeheartedly with the chief, echoing all he said, till he told them to move. Then the thumping noise _began again - very loud at first but soon fainter and fainter, till it died out in the direction of the sea._

_Lucy knew there was no time to sit puzzling as to what these invisible creatures might be. As soon as the thumping noise had died away she got up and ran along the path after the others as quickly as her legs would carry her. They must at all costs be warned. _The avenue seemed long, her pace too slow, but finally, _hot and breathless_, she _rushed into the courtyard behind _the others. _In a low voice she tried to make them understand what she had overheard. And when they had partly understood it even the bravest of them did not look very happy. _Invisible enemies, and they had no idea what they looked like, where their weak points where, if they wore armor - if they were listening. The group left the courtyard of the grey, stone manor for the avenue, but still didn't know if anyone was listening; how could they? They tried to come up with plans for getting to the ship without using the bay; Lucy thought they might leave the island at another point and swim for the ship, but Reepicheep interrupted planning.

"_You Majesties all, hear me. It is folly to think of avoiding an invisible enemy by any amount of creeping and skulking. It these creatures mean to bring us to battle, be sure they will succeed. And whatever comes of it I'd sooner meet them face to face than be caught by the tail."_ And Edmund agreed.

Lucy thought of them on the beach, of drawn swords and slashing moves. _Surely if Rhince and the others on the _Dawn Treader_ see us fighting on the shore they'll be able to do something."_

"_But they won't see us fighting if they can't see any enemy." _Eustace's tone was miserable rather than contemptuous. _"They'll think we're just swinging our swords in the air for fun._

_There was an uncomfortable pause._

"_Well," said Caspian at last, "let's get on with it. We must go and face them. Shake hands all round - arrow on the string, Lucy - swords out, everyone else - and now for it. Perhaps they'll parley." _

Lucy drew back the bow, testing the string; she released it and nocked an arrow. The rest of the group moved around her, and she glanced around, looking for the clearest line of sight. Over Eustace's head, she decided; he was the shortest. She looked that way, heart pounding. _It was strange to see the lawns and the great trees looking so peaceful as they marched back to the beach. And when they arrived there, and saw the boat lying where they had left her, and the smooth sand with no one to be seen on it, _Lucy could tell from the small glances sent her way that a few _doubted whether_ she _had not merely imagined all she had told them_. She wished she had.

But she hadn't. _Before they_ _reached the sand, a voice spoke out of the air._

"_No further, masters, no further now," it said. "We've got to talk with you first. There's fifty of us and more here with weapons in our fists."_

"_Hear him, hear him," came the chorus. "That's our Chief. You can depend on what he says." _Reepicheep, being Reepicheep, challenged them, and was quieted by Caspian, who asked what the voices wanted, and what the Narnians had done to earn their enmity.

The reply brought Edmund's hand to Lucy's shoulder, and even Eustace inched closer to her. _We want something that the little girl can do for us," said the Chief Voice. _

"_Little girl!" said Reepicheep. "The lady is a queen." _Lucy smiled, she couldn't help it. She was both a queen and a little girl, but Reepicheep always saw the hearts of people. And she was a queen. She answered the Chief Voice as a queen would.

"_What is it?"_ she asked.

"_And if it is anything against her Majesty's honour or safety," added Reepicheep, "you will wonder to see how many we can kill before we die." _

The Chief Voice proclaimed it to be a long story and proposed everyone sit down.

The Narnians remained standing, Lucy among them. Challenges were better met on your feet, she could hear her old arms-trainer say. They stood for the whole of the story.

The long, long story. The Voices apparently served a magician, had used one of his spells (that had to be read by a girl) to make themselves invisible, and then got nervous because they'd accidentally made the magician invisible as well, and didn't know where he was at.

"_But," said Lucy at last, "what's all this got to do with us? I don't understand."_

The Voices had been waiting (_"for ever so long_," the Chief Voice explained) for a little girl to come to the island. Then the Chief Voice added, _"And that's why, gentleman, if your little girl doesn't come up to scratch, it will be our painful duty to cut all your throats. Merely in the way of business, as you might say, and no offence, I hope_." Lucy sat in silence as the debate dissolved into weapons; then spoke up again.

"_But why do you want _me_ to do this? Why can't one of your own people? Haven't you got any girls?"_

"_We dursen't, we dursen't," said all the Voices. "We're not going upstairs again." _Lucy bit her lip to keep her thoughts inside; despite having used one of the magician's spells already, they were too frightened to use another. She didn't know whether to laugh or shout at them. But Caspian was already doing that for her.

"_In other words, you are asking this lady to face some danger which you daren't ask your own sisters and daughters to face!"_

"_That's right, that's right," said all the Voices cheerfully. "You couldn't have said it better. Eh, you've had some education, you have. Anyone can see that." _Lucy closed her eyes. She was a queen, after all, and if anyone needed help, it was these people. But still, the magician - in a new place she didn't know -

"_Would I have to go upstairs at night, or would it do in daylight?"_ she asked, interrupting her brother.

"_Oh, daylight, daylight, to be sure," said the Chief Voice. "Not at night. No one's asking you to do that. Go upstairs in the dark? Ugh."_

_"All right, then, I'll do it," said Lucy_.


	17. 17: People Revealed

**Chapter Seventeen: People Revealed**

Disclaimer: Aslan is revealed to own this world, and He entrusted it to Lewis to make, not me. I'm just playing with the legends already written.

A/N: Anything _italicized_ is a direct quote from VOTD chapters nine and ten. Also, I tried to figure out why I was having such a hard time writing this chapter, and realised it was because there didn't seem to be anything new to say; this is a Lucy adventure. So there's little new in this chapter; fair warning. And I summarize a great deal of it, as I didn't think this chapter should be fifteen or so pages. I was a bit torn in leaving out some of the spells, but I did, in the end, summarise some of them too, so if you'd like to read them go find the actual book, please. :)

OOOOO

There was a general outcry at Lucy's statement, but she knew it would come. "_No," she said, turning to the others, "don't try to stop me. Can't you see it's no use? There are dozens of them there. We can't fight them. And the other way there _is_ a chance."_

"_But a magician!" said Caspian._

"_I know," said Lucy. "But he mayn't be as bad as they make out. Don't you get the idea that these people are not very brave?"_

"_They're certainly not very clever," said Eustace._

"_Look here, Lu," said Edmund. "We really can't let you do a thing like this. Ask Reep, I'm sure he'll say just the same."_

"_But it's to save my own life as well as yours," said Lucy. "I don't want to be cut to bits with invisible swords any more than anyone else."_

"_Her Majesty is in the right," said Reepicheep. "If we had any assurance of saving _her_ by battle, our duty would be very plain. It appears to me that we have none. And the service they ask of her is in no way contrary to her Majesty's honour, but a noble and heroical act. If the Queen's heart moves her to risk the magician, I will not speak against it." _Lucy thanked Aslan for Reepicheep. This _was such obvious sense that _everyone _had to give in_, though she could tell Edmund still didn't like it_._ But they all agreed._ Loud cheers broke from the invisible people when their decision was announced. _And then the Chief Voice (with a general outcry of agreement) invited them to supper.

Eustace didn't like that idea any better than Edmund liked Lucy's plan, but she smiled at him. _"I'm sure they're not treacherous,_" she pointed out. "_They're not like that at all,_" and everyone agreed. The Voices weren't exactly clever enough to be treacherous.

Dinner was back at the house she'd found the others in, and it was a feast to rival a Narnian one. The invisible people did all the serving, and Lucy found herself wondering at what types of people these were. The dishes didn't move like they would if any human or mouse carried them; they moved as if going up and down small, steep hills, soaring up to fifteen feet and then coming abruptly down again. The soup course spattered all the guests (and presumably the Voices as well), and Lucy had a moment of laughter when she pictured what Susan would say if she'd hosted such a feast. It would be worse than when she'd let the Marshwiggles decorate for Christmas.

The meal - messy and repetitive, with the Voices often stating the obvious - ended at last. Lucy took one more look at the staircase she was to climb on the morrow - _wondering what she would find the next morning_ \- and went to the room one of the Voices led her to, opened the window and said a prayer for help, and then slept well.

_When Lucy woke up the next morning it was like waking up on the day of an examination or a day when you are going to the dentist. It was a lovely morning with bees buzzing and out of her open window and the law outside looking very like somewhere in England. She got up and dressed and tried to talk and eat ordinarily at breakfast. _If she spoke less than usual, the others were kind enough not to mention it. The Chief Voice (with the now-usual chorus of agreements) told her what she needed to find - a book of spells, in the room through the last doorway on the left - and told her all she needed to do was read it out loud ("That's right Chief, that's right"). It _seemed_ simple enough, and Lucy _bid goodbye to the others, said nothing, walked to the bottom of the stairs, and began going up with without looking back._ She had done worse things, she supposed, as a Queen. Waking the others up to tell them to follow a Lion they couldn't see when they came back to Narnia the second time. Only Edmund had believed her, and that hurt. This didn't hurt. Not so far. This just took courage, and she couldn't help being a little frightened. But she said she'd do it, and she would.

_It was quite light, that was one good thing. Now she had come to the top of the stairs. Lucy looked and saw a long, wide passage with a large window at the far end. Apparently the passage ran the whole length of the house. It was carved and panelled and carpeted and very many doors opened off it on each side. She stood still and couldn't hear the squeak of a mouse, or the buzzing of a fly, or anything - except the beating of her own heart._

"_The last doorway on the left," she said to herself. It did seem a bit hard that it should be the last. To reach it she would have to walk past room after room. And in any room there might be the magician - asleep, or awake, or invisible, or even dead. But it wouldn't do to think about that. She set out on her journey. The carpet was so thick that her feet made no noise._

"_There's nothing whatever to be afraid of yet," Lucy told herself. _There wasn't; there were only funny things in the hallway that your imagination made you afraid of, if you let it. Lucy tried not to let it. But _after about the sixth door she got her first real fright. For one second she felt almost certain that a wicked little bearded face had popped out of the wall and made a grimace at her. She forced herself to stop and look at it. And it was not a face at all. It was a little mirror just the size and shape of her own face, with a hair on the top of it and a beard hanging down from it ,so that when you looked in the mirror your own face fitted into the hair and beard and it looked like they belonged to you. "I just caught my own reflection with the tail of my eye as I went past," said Lucy to herself. "That was all it was. It's quite harmless." But she didn't like the look of her own face with the hair and beard, and went on_, reminding herself she was a queen but feeling every bit like a young ten-year-old.

_Before she reached the last door on the left, Lucy was beginning to wonder whether the corridor had grown longer since she began her journey and whether this was part of the magic of the house. But she got to it at last. And the door was open. _

_It was a large room with three big windows and it was lined from floor to ceiling with books; more books than Lucy had ever seen before, tiny little books, fat and dumpy books, and books bigger than any church Bible you have ever seen, all bound in leather and smelling old and learned and magical. But she knew from her instructions that she need not bother about any of these. For _the_ Book, the Magic Book, was lying on a reading-desk in the very middle of the room. She saw she would have to read it standing (and anyway there were no chairs) and also that she would have to stand with her back to the door while she read it. So at once she turned to shut the door. _

_It wouldn't shut. _

She didn't want to stand in the middle of a strange room with her back to an open door, an invisible (hopefully living) magician somewhere around. _But there was nothing else to be done._

_One thing that worried her a good deal was the size of the Book. The Chief Voice had not been able to give her any idea whereabouts in the Book the spell for making things visible ame. He even seemed rather surprised at her asking. He expected her to begin at the beginning and go on till she came to it; obviously he had never thought that there was any other way of finding a place in a book. "But it might take me days and weeks!" said Lucy, looking at the huge volume, "and I feel already as if I'd been in this place for hours." _She had a fleeting thought of thankfulness for the librarians in Cair Paravel.

_She went up to the desk and laid her hand on the book; her fingers tingled when she touched it as if it were full of electricity. She tried to open it but couldn't at first; this, however, was only because it was fastened by two leaden clasps, and when she had undone these it opened easily enough. And what a book it was! _It was everything she'd missed about the most beautiful books in Narnia.

_The spells began straight away, and at first there was nothing very important in them. _They were the sort of spells pretend witches promised in medieval England. But the pictures were _so lifelike_ Lucy could feel the things the spells fixed, like toothache, cramps, or hearing the buzzing of bees. _Lucy could hardly tear herself away from that first page, but when she turned over, the next was just as interesting. "But I must get on," she told herself. And on she went for about thirty pages_, spells after spells, from Shakespeare's plays to ones she'd heard about from pirates. _And the longer she read the more wonderful and more real the pictures became. _

_Then she came to a page_ that promised her something every girl has longed for at least once; a spell to make her beautiful _beyond the lot of mortals_. Lucy saw pictures of how she would look, of the power she would have, and even of her _back in England. And Susan (who had always been the beauty of the family) came home from America. The Susan in the picture looked exactly like the real Susan only plainer and with a nasty expression. And Susan was jealous of the dazzling beauty of Lucy, but that didn't matter a bit because no one cared anything about Susan now._

"_I _will_ say the spell," said Lucy. "I don't care. I will." She said _I don't care_ because she had a strong feeling that she mustn't._

_But when she looked back at the opening words of the spell, there in the middle of the writing, where she felt quite sure there had been no picture before, she found the great face of a lion, of The Lion, Aslan himself, staring into hers. It was painted such a bright gold that it seemed to be coming towards her out of the page; and indeed she never was quite sure afterwards that it hadn't really moved a little. At any rate she knew the expression on his face quite well. _She had seen it before at the Witch, and when he roared to awaken the sleeping trees. _He was growling and you could see most of his teeth. She became horribly afraid and turned over the page at once. _And then she read very quickly, so she couldn't think about what had just happened.

_A little later she came to a spell that would let you know what your friends thought about you. Now Lucy wanted very badly to try the other spell, the one that made you beautiful beyond the lot of mortals. So she felt that to make up for not having said it, she really would say this one. And all in a hurry, for fear her mind would change, she said the words._

She got her wish. She heard Marjorie, one of her friends, talking about her - and calling her a "not a bad little kid," and saying she got tired of Lucy. And Lucy, who still loved wholeheartedly and generously, started shouting at the picture in the book. _But the sound of her own voice at once reminded her that she was talking to a picture and that the real Marjorie was far away in another world. _

"_Well," said Lucy to herself, "I did think better of her than that. And I did all sorts of things for her last term, and I stuck to her when not many other girls would. And she knows it too. And to Anne Featherstone of all people! I wonder are all my friends the same? There are lots of other pictures. No. I won't look at any more. I won't, I won't - " and with a great effort she turned over the page, but not before a large, angry tear had splashed on it. _

The next spell didn't need to be said to come true, _a spell 'for the refreshment of the spirit_." Lucy read it eagerly, a story that was better than any story she had ever read, a story so lovely she tried to turn the book back to begin again. But _here part of the magic of the Book came into play. You couldn't turn back. The right-hand pages, the ones ahead, could be turned; the left-hand pages could not._ And Lucy discovered to her dismay that the story faded from her memory, though the sense of loveliness remained.

_She turned on and found to her surprise a page with no pictures at all; but the first words were _A Spell to make hidden things visible._ She read it through to make sure of all the hard words and then said it out loud. And she knew at once that it was working because as she spoke the colours came into the capital letters at the top of the page and the pictures began appearing in the margins. _As the pictures began appearing as well Lucy _thought, "I suppose I've made everything visible, and not only the Thumpers. There might be lots of other invisible things hanging about a place like this. I'm not sure that I want to see them all."_

_At that moment she heard soft, heavy footfalls coming along the corridor behind her; and of course she remembered what she had been told about the Magician walking in his bare feet and making no more noise than a cat. It is always better to turn round than to have anything creeping up behind your back. Lucy did so._

_Then her face lit up till, for a moment (but of course she didn't know it), she looked almost as beautiful as that other Lucy in the picture, and she ran forward with a little cry of delight and with her arms stretched out. For what stood in the doorway was Aslan himself, The Lion, the highest of all High Kings. And he was solid and real and warm and he let her kiss him and bury herself in his shining mane. _This, Lucy knew, was home; this was what she wanted more than anything. This was joy and love and belonging. Aslan. _And from the low, earthquake-like sound that came from inside him, Lucy even dared to think that he was purring._

"_Oh, Aslan," said she, "it was kind of you to come."_

"_I have been here all the time," said he, "but you have just made me visible."_

"_Aslan!" said Lucy almost a little reproachfully. "Don't make fun of me. As if anything _I_ could do would make _you_ visible!"_

"_It did," said Aslan. "Do you think I wouldn't obey my own rules?"_

_After a little pause he spoke again._

"_Child," he said, "I think you have been eavesdropping."_

"_Eavesdropping?"_

"_You listened to what your two schoolfellows were saying about you."_

"_Oh, that? I never thought that was eavesdropping, Aslan. Wasn't it magic?"_

"_Spying on other people by magic is the same as spying on them in any other way. And you have misjudged your friend. She is weak, but she loves you. She was afraid of the older girl and said what she does not mean."_

"_I don't think I'd ever be able to forget what I heard her say."_

"_No, you won't."_

"_Oh dear," said Lucy. "Have I spoiled everything? Do you mean we would have gone on being friends if it hadn't been for this - and been really great friends - all our lives perhaps - and now we never shall."_

"_Child," said Aslan, "did I not explain to you once before that no one is ever told what _would have happened?_"_

"_Yes, Aslan, you did," said Lucy. "I'm sorry. But please - "_

"_Speak on, dear heart."_

"_Shall I ever be able to read that story again; the one I couldn't remember? Will you tell it to me, Aslan? Oh do, do, do."_

"_Indeed, yes. I will tell it to you for years and years. But now, come. We must meet the master of this house."_ And Lucy was content to do so, for she and Aslan would go together, and even more than the _Dawn Treader_, or even her siblings, where Aslan went was home.

OOOOO

Response to Anonymousme: Personally, I think Lewis's writing style shines the most in his non-fiction. His metaphors are genius. When he's explaining a complicated idea he'll often write it, then follow it with a metaphor that nails the meaning and makes it memorable; it's suddenly easy to grasp. He has a few of those in Narnia, as well - the stream in Aslan's country when Jill is thirsty, Aslan's sacrifice for a traitor's life, they showed me truths I knew and made them unforgettable. To name only two. There's also a simplicity in his sentence structure that I love and would emulate more if I had the skill. But all writers have their flaws, certainly. I've heard of elecktrum's Narnian calendar - it's used by most of my favorite FF authors; but I haven't read it yet. I'm guessing - though it is a guess - that fresh from England, and continuing a diary where Eustace used English dates, Lucy would probably continue them. Thanks for reviewing!


	18. 18: Land or Sea, Aslan's

**Chapter Eighteen: Land or Sea, Aslan's.**

Disclaimer: Not-ot-ot-ot mine.  
Those aren't quite enough "ot"s to echo how many times I've said Narnia doesn't belong to me, but it feels representative.  
The beginning of this is copied word-from-word from "The Dufflepuds Made Happy" from _VOTD_; I'll note when my writing begins.  
And my apologies for any inanities, I am very, very tired and consequently constantly inclined to Nonsense. Which should start with a C, but it doesn't.

OOOOO

Lucy followed the great Lion out into the passage and at once she saw coming towards them an old man, barefoot, dressed in a red robe. His white hair was crowned with a chaplet of oak leaves, his beard fell to his girdle, and he supported himself with a curiously carved staff. When he saw Aslan he bowed low and said,

"Welcome, Sir, to the least of your houses."

"Do you grow weary, Coriakin, of ruling such foolish subjects as I have given you here?"

"No," said the Magician, "they are very stupid but there is no real harm in them. I begin to grow rather fond of the creatures. SOmetimes, perhaps, I am a little impatient, waiting for the day when they can be governed by wisdom instead of this rough magic."

"All in good time, Coriakin," said Aslan.

"Yes, all in very good time, Sir," was the answer. "Do you intend to show yourself to them?"

"Nay," said the Lion, with a little half-growl that meant (Lucy thought) the same as a laugh. "I should frighten them out of their sense. Many stars will grow old and come to take their rest in islands before your people are ripe for that. And today before sunset I must visit Trumpkin the Dwarf where he sits in the castle of Cair Paravel counting the days till his master Caspian comes home. I will tell you all your story, Lucy. Do not look so sad. We shall meet soon again."

"Please, Aslan," said Lucy, "what do you call _soon_?"

"I call all times soon," said Aslan; and instantly he was vanished away and Lucy was alone with the Magician.

"Gone!" said he, "and you and I quite crestfallen. It's always like that, you can't keep him; it's not as if were a _tame_ lion. And how did you enjoy my book?"

Lucy was quite glad for the change of subject (1). "Parts of it very much indeed," said Lucy. "Did you know I was there all the time?"

"Well, of course i Knew when I let the Duffers make themselves invisible that you would be coming along presently to take the spell off. I wasn't quite sure of the exact day. And I wasn't especially on the watch this morning. You see they had made me invisible too and being invisible always makes me so sleepy. Heigh-ho - there I'm yawning again. Are you hungry?"

"Well, perhaps I am a little," said Lucy. "I've no idea what the time is."

"Come," said the Magician. "All times may be soon to Aslan; but in my home all hungry times are one o'clock."

He led her a little way down the passage and opened a door. Passing in, Lucy found herself in a pleasant room full of sunlight and flowers. The table was bare when they entered, but it was of course a magic table, and at a word form the old man the tablecloth, silver, plates, glasses, and food appeared. Lucy was sure she'd heard of a tablecloth like that in a fairytale somewhere back in England (2).

(3) The luncheon was lovely; food Lucy might have found at a party in England. The Magician proved himself good company as well, answering all of Lucy's questions, and explaining that while the Duffles thought _themselves_ ugly, most other people wouldn't. It was a change meant for the better, though it had been punishment for all sorts of silly faults, like washing their dishes before supper to save time, planting cooked potatoes, and hauling water from a spring half a mile away instead of from the stream in the garden (4). The Magician had a look Lucy recognised in several of the mothers her own mother helped, a look of fond, impatient exasperation, often worn to the sound of a sigh. After she finished, the Magician offered to show her the Duffers.

When she saw them, she first mistook them for mushrooms, for the Duffers had a single foot they held above their heads like umbrellas while resting, and when they got up they moved by bouncing!

(5) "Oh, the funnies, the funnies," cried Lucy, bursting into laughter. "Did _you_ make them like that?"

"Yes, yes, I made the Duffers into Monopods," said the Magician. He too was laughing till the tears ran down his cheeks. He and Lucy watched as the Monopod Duffers talked absolute nonsense about being visible again, and about how Lucy must have caught the Magician out. Lucy, loving the bounces and jumps and leaps, and noticing that the Monopods actually looked happy themselves as they were, asked the Magician if he thought she could make the Monopods completely happy by telling them how nice they looked. They weren't very clever, after all; and the Magician said she'd perhaps better try it, and she thanked him for lunch and (6) ran down the stairs which she had come up so nervously that morning and cannonned into Edmund at the bottom. All the others were there with him waiting, and Lucy's conscience smote her when she saw their anxious faces and realised how long she had forgotten them.

"It's all right," she shouted. "Everything's all right. The Magician's a break - and I've seen _Him - _Aslan."

She rushed past them and into the garden, running right to the sounds of _thumps_ and cheers, the air filled with the celebration of the Monopods. The cheering doubled when she came in sight, and the Chief Monopod thanked her as pompously as any visiting ambassador ever had, adding that he regretted she hadn't seen them before they'd become so ugly. Here was Lucy's perfect opportunity.

She took it, and the Chief Monopod took her perfect opportunity and turned it on its head, telling the other Monopods the exact opposite of everything she said, driving Lucy crazy, till she stamped her foot and gave up, remember the stubbornness of other dwarves and realising that just because the Monopods hadn't gotten any dwarfish skill or intelligence didn't mean they hadn't received the full portion of dwarfish stubbornness. But despite the contradictions the Monopods seemed overall contented, and overall Lucy decided the infuriating conversation ended with success (7).

The day did as well, though Eustace got the worst of it. He got annoyed at the nonsense the Dufflepuds (as they named themselves) kept talking, and wished they were inaudible, and then wasn't able to explain to _their_ satisfaction what inaudible meant. Worse, they told him he should learn from their Chief Dufflepud how to explain things, and that would be an insult to anybody, Lucy thought, trying not to smile. But Reepicheep (after reassuring the anxious crew, who had been missing kings, queen, and passengers during theri unplanned overnight stay) taught the Dufflepuds how to use their single foot as a boat, and how to cut paddles, and soon the entire group was out on the water, paddling around and rowing races, and the sailors loved it. (8)

(9) That evening all the Narnians dined upstairs with the Magician, and Lucy noticed how different the whole top floor looked now that she was no longer afraid of it. The mysterious signs on the doors were still mysterious but now looked as if they had kind and cheerful meanings, and even the bearded mirror now seemed funny rather than frightening. At dinner everyone had by magic what everyone liked best to eat and drink.

And Lucy, sitting by Eustace, just beyond the Magician, was happy throughout the meal, because Eustace's awful day was ending very well. He and the Magician had somehow gotten into a discussion involving science, and in Narnia the truest scientists were often magicians, because it required a good understanding of nature to change it. And Eustace, for all his crueler tendencies, ahd truly enjoyed science back in England, and the two had great fun comparing the two worlds they'd lived in and how those worlds worked. Lucy learned several things she hadn't known-like the habits of non-inhabited mushrooms in the islands-and gladly just sat and listened, tired out from the very long day.

After dinner the Magician gave Caspian and Drinian one piece of wonderful, incredible magic, a map that wrote itself as Drinian described all the places they had been, and copy for the Magician himself. They were the first maps ever made of those seas and better than any that have been made since without magic (10). After both were completed, the discussion turned to farther East. The Magician could tell them nothing; He did, however, tell them that about seven years before a Narnian ship had put in at his waters and that she had on board the lords Revilian, Argoz, Mavramorn and Rhoop; so they judged that the golden man they had seen lying in Deathwater must be the Lord Restimar (11).

Next day, the Magician magically mended the stern of the _Dawn Treader_ where it had been damaged by the Sea Serpent and loaded her with useful gifts. There was a most friendly parting, and when she sailed, two hours after noon, all the Dufflepuds paddled out with ehr to the harbour mouth, and cheered util she was out of sound of their cheering.

Lucy stayed out on the deck most of the day, knowing from the past that anytime one of them had gone into danger, the others liked to stay close for a while, just to remember Aslan brought their sibling back safely. Edmund stayed within eyesight of her most of the afternoon, and she made sure laugh often. It came easily; the adventure had reminded her how closely Aslan walked with them. And there was so much to be glad about. She laughed to herself just thinking about their adventures; it was such a strange mix. She'd had food from a party in England while sitting at a table with a Magician who was answering questions about a spell cast on dwarfs. She leaned on the deck railing, still smiling. She'd had a taste of both her former homes that day, but she was glad to be back on this one, sailing into more adventures with Edmund, Reepicheep, Caspian, and the rest.

With Aslan to connect them; Aslan, who had been going back to another friend of hers from another time. She did wish she'd asked Aslan to take a message to Trumpkin for her. When he told Trumpkin their story, somehow interjecting her greetings. She was sure it'd have put a gruff smile on the practical dwarf's face, and he always looked better for it. His smile had been brighter than a mouse's in battle, the day Caspian was crowned. Aslan was in that memory too.

Lucy looked out over the sea, thinking. That must be why this feels so much like home, she thought. Aslan is Aslan in Narnia, in Deathwater Island, even for the Magician. Anywhere in this world, there's Aslan. He doesn't change. And that's why the whole world here feels like home.

I wish England was His the same way.

OOOOO

(1) My inserted sentence.  
(2) Also my insertion; but there is, in a fairy tale originally, but adopted for various uses throughout fantasy books. My favorite use was in _The Two Princesses of Bamarre_, when the protagonist uses it to kill a host of griffyns by letting them stuff themselves to death.  
(3) This is where I begin summarising and playing with it a bit more; mainly to shorten it. I highly approve of what Lewis did in the book, and love the conversation, but _copying_ doesn't feel much like _writing_, you see.  
(4) All the examples are taken from VOTD p. 127...readers, I'm on page 127. There's only 189 pages. And granted, lbernsteinnm gave me a wonderful idea for the next story I can't wait to begin, and I need to finish "A Turtle's Tale," but how am I this far already?  
(5) Dialogue and descriptions quoted from p. 129...which is two pages farther along...I suppose this _is_ how I got this far, but still, slow down! I'm not ready to leave the _Dawn Treader _yet, I've fallen in love with this home.  
(6) The following paragraph and Lucy shouting were quoted from VOTD p. 130-131.  
(7) The last sentence is a paraphrase of one Lewis wrote on p. 132.  
(8) Events are taken directly from p. 133  
(9) This paragraph is quoted from p. 133...and I've decided to leave out adding "VOTD" to the page numbers because if someone doesn't know by now what book I'm quoting from I'd dearly love to know what book they think it is. It'd be fun to mix the books up and see what came of it.  
(10) p. 134  
(11) The last 2/3rds of the sentence are from p. 134, as is the beginning of the next paragraph.


	19. 19: Nightmares

**Chapter Nineteen: Nightmares**

"Wait for the LORD; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the LORD!" Psalm 27:14

Disclaimer: of all the things I _want_ to claim of Narnia, this is not one of them. I've spent the last two nights in fever nightmares, and the last thing in the world I would want would be for them to come true. With relief I say, not a island that has haunted my imagination, and the ownership isn't mine either.  
The one _italicized _section is a several-page-long direct quote from the book.

After leaving the Dufflepuds and the Magician, the _Dawn Treader_ sailed on south and a little east for twelve days with a gentle wind, the skies being mostly clear and the air warm (1). During this time Lucy, who had been having far too much adventure to have time to write about it, began to keep her diary again.

_October the 31st:_ Dear Diary, we left the Magician's island a week ago. It's funny, Aslan called him by his name - Coriarkin (2), or something like that, but I can't help thinking about him as the Magician.  
And Aslan called him by that name because yes, I've seen Him. Aslan.  
And it wasn't like what I'd been dreaming about. I forgot, you see, that He comes when we want Him the least, as well as when we want Him the most. I'd been doing something I shouldn't, and of course I didn't at all want to see Him then.  
But He came anyway, and as soon as He was there, I remembered He was what I wanted, more than anything.  
But we left that island a week ago, and it's been smooth sailing since.

_November the 2nd_: It's been funny to watch Eustace and Reep become better friends. They're so different; but Reep has the courage of a lion (even if he doesn't like the phrase; at the very least it's Lion-given), and he's a knight in the truest sense of the word, so he'll be anyone's friend if they're on the right side. And Eustace is as loyal as Reep is now. But Reep offered to teach Eustace to use the sword, and I think most of us forgot how seriously Reep takes that skill. He was unrelenting with any mistakes, a mouse ordering a boy to pick up his sword, stop dropping it, guard! And Eustace following as fast as he could, but getting more and more frustrated. Ed and Caspian took over, and Ed's his actual teacher now. Ed makes a very patient teacher, and he's just what Eustace needs. But Eustace is still learning courage from Reepicheep. It's just so clear in Reep. I wonder what he'll need that courage for.

_November the 3rd_: The sea and air are empty; no birds, no fish, no merfolk. Some of the sailors say we're too close to the edge of the world for anything to live here. But that doesn't sound like Aslan.

_November the 4th_: We saw whales today (3)! They were a long way off. I wish we had been closer. I've never seen them, back in England, though Mum wrote that they have haunting songs; I guess they learned about them on the ship to America.

_November the 5th_: I lost another set of chess games today. Reepicheep and I play all the time; and when Edmund coaches, he says I'm getting better. I'd love to go home and beat Peter. He'd be so surprised at first, and then so proud. And Susan would give that pleased smile she has whenever I've mastered something. But Edmund and I are planning it; we're not going to give Peter any warning. And Edmund wants to pull in Susan, so some day we can have a sibling chess tournament. I can't decide who would win. I know it wouldn't be me.

But I play Reepicheep often, so I can be Peter's equal once we go back.

_November the 7th_: Eustace distracted Reepicheep with questions about the battle against Miraz at the dueling field, and I won!  
It probably wasn't fair, but Edmund said it was to teach me a lesson, to never let myself be distracted while playing. And I don't think Reep minded, so it _was_ fun.

_November the 8th_: Edmund sighted something. He said it looked like a "great dark mountain (4)," but he couldn't find any defining features in it. We're sailing there - well, rowing there - for our next adventure. I wonder if it will involve Eustace? He's been learning so much.

_November the 9th_: I'm very tired. We rowed all night, not wanting to lose our chance at land, and maybe another chance to find the missing lords. While I still am not big enough to row, there's lots of other things I can do. The island we're sailing for is queer, dim. Eustace described it best as a "dark mass" (5). It's dim, like there's something blocking the light. The sailors don't like it. I'm curious about it. Aslan makes good things in every place, every single one, and I'm sure we can find it here.

(6) _About nine [the next] morning, very suddenly, it was so close that they could see that it was not land at all, nor even, in an ordinary sense, a mist. It was a darkness. It is rather hard to describe, but you will see what it was like if you imagine yourself looking into the mouth of railway tunnel - a tunnel either so long or so twisty that you cannot see the light at the far end. And you know what it would be like. For a few feet you would see the rails and sleepers and gravel in broad daylight; then there would come a place where they were in twilight; and then, pretty suddenly, but of course without a sharp dividing line, they would vanish altogether into smooth, solid blackness. It was just so here. For a few feet in front of their bows they could see the swell of the bright greenish-blue water. Beyond that, they could see the water looking pale and grey as it would look late in eh evening. But beyond that again, utter blackness as if they had come to the edge of moonless and starless night. _

_Caspian shouted to the boatswain to keep her back, and all except the rowers rushed forward and gazed from the bows,_ Lucy by Edmund and Eustace. _But there was nothing to be seen by gazing. Behind them was the sea and the sun, before them the Darkness._

"_Do we go into this?" asked Caspian at length._

"_Not by my advice," said Drinian._

"_The Captain's right," said several sailors._

"_I almost think he is," said Edmund._

_Lucy and Eustace didn't speak but they felt very glad inside at the turn things seemed to be taking. But all at once the clear voice of Reepicheep broke in upon the silence._

"_And why not?" he said. "Will someone explain to me why not."_

_No one was anxious to explain, so Reepicheep continued:_

"_If I were addressing peasants or slaves," he said, "I might suppose that this suggestion proceeded from cowardice. But I hope it will never be told in Narnia that a company of noble and royal persons in the flower of their age turned tail because they were afraid of the dark."_

"_But what manner of use would it be ploughing through that blackness?" asked Drinian._

"_Use?" replied Reepicheep. "Use, Captain? If by use you mean filling our bellies or our purses, I confess it will be no use at all. So far as I know we did not set sail to look for things useful but to seek honour and adventure. And here is as great an adventure as ever I heard of, and here, if we turn back, no little impeachment of our honours."_

_Several of the sailors said things under their breath - _Lucy heard a few of them - _that sounded like "Honour be blowed", but Caspian said:_

"_Oh, BOTHER you, Reepicheep. I almost wish we'd left you at home. All right! If you put it that way, I suppose we shall have to gon on. Unless Lucy would rather not?"_

"_Lucy felt that she would very much rather not, but what she said out loud was, "I'm game."_

"_Your Majesty will at least order lights?" said Drinian. _

"_By all means," said Caspian. "See to it, Captain."_

_So the three lanterns, at the stern, and the prow and the masthead, were all lit, and Drinian ordered two torches admidships. Pale and feeble they looked in the sunshine. Then all the men except some who were left below at the oars were ordered on deck and fully armed and posted in their battle stations with swords drawn. Lucy and two archers were posted in the fighting top with bows bent and arrows on the string. _It was familiar, Lucy thought, drawing in a breath, and yet strange. She had fought over and over for Narnia or Narnia's friends, but it was different to fight with her home moving beneath her feet, and the enemy unknown, maybe non-existent. Either way, she thought, Aslan leads. She looked down.

_Rynelf was in the bows with his line ready to take soundings. Reepicheep, Edmund, Eustace, and Caspian, glittering in mail, were with him. Drinian took the tiller. _

"_And now, in Aslan's name,forward!" cried Caspian. "A slow, steady stroke. ANd let every man be silent and keep his ears open for orders. _

_With a creak and a groan the Dawn Treader started to creep forward as the men began to row. Lucy, up in the fighting top, had a wonderful view of the exact moment at which they entered the darkness. The bows had already disappeared before the sunlight had left the stern. She saw it go. At one minute the gilded stern, the blue sea, and the sky, were wall in broad daylight: next minute the sea and sky had vanished, the stern lantern - which had been hardly noticeable before - was the only thing to show where the ship ended. In front of the lantern she could see the black shape of Drinian crouching at the tiller. Down below her the two torches made visible two small patches of deck and gleamed on swords and helmets, and forward there was another island of light on the forecastle. Apart from that, the fighting top, lit by the masthead light which was only just above her, seemed to be a little lighted world of its own floating in lonely darkness. And the lights themselves, as always happens with lights when you have to have them at the wrong time of day, looked lurid and unnatural. She also noticed that she was very cold. _

_How long this voyage into the darkness lasted, nobody knew. Except for the creak of the rowlocks and the splash of the oars there was nothing to show that they were moving at all. _Lucy began to shiver, her breathe invisible in the dark but her bowstring quivering.

_Suddenly, from somewhere - no one's sense of direction was very clear by now - there came a cry, either of some inhuman voice or else a voice of one in such extremity of terror that he had almost lost his humanity. _It tugged at Lucy's heart and scared her in one.

_Caspian was still trying to speak - his mouth was too dry - when the shrill voice of Reepicheep, which sounded louder than usual in that silence, was heard._

"_Who calls?" it piped. "If you are a foe we do not fear you, and if you are friend your enemies shall be taught the fear of us."_

"_Mercy!" cried the voice. "Mercy! Even if you are only one more dream, have mercy. Take me on board. Take me, even if you strike me dead. But in the name of all mercies do not fade away and leave me in this horrible island."_

"_Where are you?" _Lucy heard Caspian shout. She could see him bending over the rail, armor glinting, Edmund bending to search beside him at the bows. _"Come aboard and welcome."_

_There came another cry, whether of joy or terror, and then they knew that someone was swimming towards them. _The splashes carried over the water, faint but growing closer.

"_Stand by to heave him up, men," said Caspian._

"_Aye, aye, your Majesty," said the sailors._ Lucy watched several of them _crowd to the port bulwark with ropes and one, leaning far out over the side, held the torch._ She held utterly still, praying whoever cried like that would see it, would find it, would find the haven that was her home. A moment later a _wild, white face appeared in the blackness of the water, and then, after some scrambling and pulling, a dozen friendly hands ahd heaved the stranger on board. _In the darkness Lucy couldn't see him well; Edmund told her later of the wild-looking man with a mop of white hair_, his face thin and drawn, and, for clothing, only a few wet rags hung about him. But what one mainly noticed were his eyes, which were so widely opened that he seemed to have no eyelids at all, and stared as if in an agony of pure fear. The moment his feet reached the deck_ he was speaking, his words carrying up to Lucy:

"_Fly! Fly! About with your ship and fly! Row, row, row for your lives away from this accursed shore."_

"_Compose yourself," said Reepicheep, "and tell us what the danger is. We are not used to flying." _

_The stranger started horribly at the voice of the Mouse,_ large enough for Lucy to see in the dim light.

"_Nevertheless you will fly from here," he gasped. "This is the Island where Dreams come true."_

Lucy heard him say it, but couldn't make sense of it, side by side with the terror in his tone. The sailors below her did; she heard them saying "_That's the island I've been looking for this long time. I reckoned I'd find I was married to Nancy if we landed here." "And I'd find Tom alive again."_

"_Fools!" said the man_, and Lucy heard the thump of his foot against the deck as he stamped it, _"That is the sort of talk that brought me here, and I'd better have been drowned or never born. Do you hear what I say? This is where dreams - dreams, do you understand - come to life, come real. Not daydreams; dreams."_

_There was about half a minute's silence and then, with a great clatter of armour, the whole crew were tumbling down the main hatch as quick as they could and flinging themselves on the oars to row as they had never rowed before; and Drinian was swinging round the tiller, and the boatswain was giving out the quickest stroke that had ever been heard at sea_, the pulse of it thrumming to match Lucy's thumping heart. She remembered some of her dreams, the ones of Edmund gasping a last breath and her siblings turning to stone, or ones where she had been left in England, and stood alone from her siblings as they came back filled with the color and life of Narnia and did not know them anymore; and a sickening sense of dread gripped her stomach, her fingers clenching around the wooden handle of the bow. But below her she heard Reepicheep's piping voice, _unmoved:_

"_Your Majesty, your Majesty," he said, "are you going to tolerate this mutiny, this poltroonery? This is a panic, this is a rout."_

"_Row, row," bellowed Caspian. "Pull for all our lives. Is her head right, Drinian? You can say what you like, Reepicheep. There are some things no man can face."_

"_It is, then, my good fortune not to be a man," _Lucy heard the stiff reply. Oh Reepicheep, you do not know what it's like to fear to be alone; or whatever it is we fear, she thought. Have mercy on what you do not know, on us!

_For a second she wanted to go down to the deck and be with Edmund and caspian. But what was the use? If dreams began coming true, Edmund and Caspian themselves might turn into something horrible just as she reached them_, her loved ones becoming nightmares._ She gripped the rail of the fighting top and tried to steady herself. They were rowing back to the light as hard as they could: it would be all right in a few seconds. But oh, if only it could be all right now!_

_Though the rowing made a good deal of noise _ \- and Lucy's heartbeat had not slowed_ \- it did not conceal the total silence which surrounded the ship. Everyone knew it would be better not to listen, not to strain his ears for any sound from the darkness. But no one could help listening. And soon everyone was bearing things. Each one heard something different;_ but the sound of their fears floated up from the deck and to the topsail, sounds telling Lucy they heard things on the mast, the sides, gongs floating over the water. She heard the sound of every voice she loved silenced, and she tried to tell herself it wasn't real. They were still going. THey would still get out. But beneath her she heard a sudden _horrible screaming laugh._

"_Never get out!"_ It was the stranger's terror-driven yell. _"That's it. Of course. We shall never get out. What a fool I was to have thought they would let me go as easily as that. No, no, we shall never get out."_

_Lucy leant her head on the edge of the fighting top and whispered, "Aslan, Aslan, if ever you loved us at all, send us help now." The darkness did not grow any less, but she began to feel a little - a very, very little - better. "After all, nothing has happened to us yet," she thought._

"_Look!" cried Rynelf's voice hoarsely from the bows. There was a tiny speck of light ahead, and while they watched a broad beam of light fell from it upon the ship. It did not alter the surrounding darkness, btu the whole ship was lit up as if by searchlight,_ and Lucy could see the shadows of all the ship's company stretching across the deck behind them_. _She looked away,_ looked along the beam and presently saw something in it. At first it looked like a cross, then it looked like an aeroplane, then it looked like a kite, and at last with a whirring of wings it was right overhead and was an albatross. It circled three times round the mast and then perched for an instant on the crest of the gilded dragon at the prow. It called out in a strong sweet voice what seemed to be words though no one understood them. After that it spread its wings, rose, and began to fly slowly ahead, bearing a little to starboard. Drinian steered after it not doubting that it offered good guidance. But no one except Lucy knew that as it circled the mast it had whispered to her, "Courage, dear heart," and the voice, she felt sure, was Aslan's, and with the voice a delicious smell breathed in her face. _

_In a few moments the darkness turned into a greyneess ahead, and then, almost before they dared to begin hoping, they had shot out into the sunlight and were in the warm, blue world again. And all at once everybody realised that there was nothing to be afraid of and never had been. _It was like the moment you wake from those dreams and see HOME_, _Lucy thought. _Everybody blinked their eyes and looked about them. The brightness of the ship herself astonished them: they had half expected to find that the darkness would cling to the white and the green and the gold in the form of some grime or scum. And then first one, and then another, began laughing._

"_I reckon we've made pretty good fools of ourselves," said Rynelf. _

_Lucy lost no time in coming down to the deck, where she found the others all gathered round the newcomer. For a long time he was too happy to speak, and could only gaze at the sea and the sun and feel the bulwarks and the ropes, as if to make sure he was really awake, while tears rolled down his cheeks._

"_Thank you," he said at last. "You have saved me from...but I won't talk of that. And now let me know who you are. I am a Telmarine of Narnia, and when I was worth anything men called me the Lord Rhoop."_

Lord Rhoop. Lucy's heart thrilled. She stood a little back to let Caspian respond, as was proper.

"_And I," said Caspian, "am Caspian, King of Narnia, and I sail to find you and your companions who were my father's friends."_

_Lord Rhoop fell to his knees and kissed the King's hand_, begging as a boon that none would ever bring him back there, pointing _astern. They all looked. But they saw only bright blue sea and bright blue sky. The Dark Island and the darkness had vanished forever._

"_Why!" cried Lord Rhoop. "You have destroyed it!"_

"_I don't think it was us," said Lucy_, remembering the voice, the smell, and the light. Aslan had done more than save them; he had destroyed what threatened to harm them. Caspian and Drinian, as was right, ordered grog for everyone, each drinking it was grateful hearts, and then most going to bed. But Lucy didn't. Her mind was troubling her.

She remembered, months ago now (though probably not in England), walking into Uncle Harold and Aunt Alberta's and thinking there was something good everywhere. She'd been so sure of it.

Could she be wrong?

A place where those dreams came true; where all the whispers, colder than the White Witch's ice, became voices that couldn't be drowned out. Could there be anything good in a place like that?

She couldn't find one, and it made her heart ache. Even though the place was gone.

She sat, through the rest of the afternoon as they sailed, watching the sun and trying to be glad there was light everywhere, but still remembering a place where everything was dark.

But wait. It hadn't been everything.

There had been one place with light, hadn't there?

On the ship. They brought their frail lights with them, and then the albatross had made the entire ship as bright as the light of the sun.

_They_ had been the good in that place, she realised. They had been sent there to be the good place, the good thing, the escape for the lord without light. And when they'd been to frail to get out on their own, Aslan had rescued them. And there was no greater good than Him.

She smiled, finally satisfied - "Courage, dear heart," now sounding in her mind - and went and slept with the rest of the adventurers.

She didn't write much in her diary about the Dark Island, knowing that fear was not a thing to dwell on, for it often lies and to dwell on the lies is often to start believing in them. But she wrote this, wanting this to be what she remembered.

_November the 10th  
_He was there.  
He was there when I wanted Him the least, and when we needed Him the most.  
Though I suppose we needed Him the most both times.  
When home wasn't enough, he was there.

OOOOO

(1) p. 135  
(2) It's actually Coriakin, but Lucy remembered it wrong  
(3) p. 135 says they saw whales spouting water a long way off  
(4) p. 135  
(5) p. 135, though the book doesn't say Eustace used that description; I just thought it sounded like him.  
(6) The entire next section is taken from p. 135-145; anything not italicised are my additions, and there are some sentences I left out as I'm trying to portray this from Lucy's perspective.


	20. 20: An Enchanted Table

**Chapter Twenty: An Enchanted Table**

Disclaimer: Stories become legends, legends become fairy tales, and fairy tales belong to every child. Lewis wrote the story, the world made it legend, and time made it a fairy tale.  
_Anything italicized is a direct quote; _there are a few times when I left some sentences out, but not many_._

A/N: Most of the rest of this story will be more direct quotes than new story, because Lewis uses Lucy's perspective quite often, and there's a lot of dialogue. I'll have a little bit interspersed, and add where I can, but it will be much more Lewis's than mine.

OOOOO

The Dark Island was the most fearful part of their journey so far, and Lucy saw its mark on the sailors and kings alike. She knew the darkest fears teach wisdom to those who remember the moment fear was proved to be only a shadow – the moment the darkness vanished and the sun showed it no longer touched any part of the ship. She made sure to speak of that moment to Edmund in the hearing of the crew. And their eyes grew brighter as they remembered.

But for a few, the memory became a ghost, a reoccurring fright, as they only remembered the nightmares. And for Lord Rhoop, who had lived in nightmares for years, the shadows were stronger than the reality of the sunshine. Lucy spent the most time around him, talking to him of all the things Aslan had done in Narnia during his dark years. But it wasn't enough. For the ones who weren't healed yet, Lucy asked Aslan for sunny days.

And He answered.

_The wind never failed but it grew gentler every day till at length the waves were little more than ripples, and the ship glided on hour after hour almost as if they were sailing on a lake. And every night they saw that there rose in the east new constellations which no one had ever seen in Narnia and perhaps, as Lucy thought with a mixture of joy and fear, no living eye had seen at all. Those new stars were big and bright and the nights were warm. Most of them slept on deck and talked far into the night or hung over the ship's side watching the luminous dance of the foam thrown up by their bows._

_On an evening of startling beauty, when the sunset behind them was so crimson and purple and widely spread that the very sky itself seemed to have grown larger, they came in sight of land on their starboard bow. _Lucy was on deck when the call came from the lookout, and ran to view the island. _It came slowly nearer and the light behind them made it look as if the capes and headlands of this new country were all on fire. But presently they were sailing along its coast and its western cape now rose up astern of them, black against the red sky and sharp as if it was cut out of cardboard, and the then they could see better what this country was like. It had no mountains but many gentle hills with slopes like pillows. An attractive smell came from it – what Lucy called "a dim, purple kind of smell", which Edmund said (and Rhince thought) was rot, but Caspian said, "I know what you mean."_ Lucy didn't have better words for it; but it was a deep, rich smell that exploded on the senses. She made a face at Edmund, but soon forgot about it as they began looking for a place to anchor.

_They sailed on a good way, past point after point, hoping to find a nice deep harbour, but had to content themselves in the end with a wide and shallow bay. Though it had seemed calm out at sea there was of course surf breaking on the sand and they could not bring the _Dawn Treader_ as far in as they would have liked._

"It's no good, Your Majesties," Drinian said, frowning a bit. "It's a slope all round, and we don't want to ground her."

"No, of course not," said Caspian. "Tell the men to weigh anchor. We'll take the boat. Who wants to go ashore?"

"I have had enough of islands," said Lord Rhoop (1). He had been standing a little straighter, during those calm sunny days, but he still watched the world around him as if it was dream that would vanish.

"I'll go," said Lucy, Edmund, Eustace, Caspian, and Reepicheep agreeing. Drinian and Rhince wanted to go ashore as well, and the Captain gave the tiller to the third mate, collecting a few sailors along the way. _They had a wet and tumbling landing in the boat_, but they made it in and rowed ashore. _All the time that they remained in this country the sound of the long breakers was in their ears._

_Two men were left to guard the boat and Caspian led the others inland, but not far because it was too late for exploring and the light would soon go. But there was no need to go far to find an adventure. The level valley which lay at the head of the bay showed no road or track or other sign of habitation. Underfoot was fine springy turf dotted here and there with a low bushy growth which Edmund and Lucy took for heather. Eustace, who was really rather good at botany, said it wasn't, and he was probably right; but it was something very much of the same kind._

Lucy kept looking around. A memory kept intruding, a memory of a walk down a long hallway on a different island and a magic book. That's it, she thought to herself. It feels like this island is full of magic.

_When they had gone less than a bowshot from the shore, Drinian said, "Look! What's that?" and everyone stopped._

"_Are they great trees?" said Caspian._

"_Towers, I think," said Eustace._

"_It might be giants," said Edmund in a lower voice, _and Lucy tensed. There were a few (very few) friendly giants, and one had even helped open up the Witch's castle, but most giants weren't.

"_The way to find out is to go right in among them," said Reepicheep, drawing his sword and pattering off ahead of everyone else._

Lucy peered ahead, trying to see an enemy before Reep could meet it. The tall figures weren't moving.

"_I think it's a ruin," said Lucy when they had got a good deal nearer, and her guess was the best so far. What they now saw was a wide oblong space flagged with smooth stones and surrounded by grey pillars but unroofed. And from end to end of it ran a long table laid with a rich crimson cloth that came down nearly to the pavement. _It reminded Lucy of the colors of the banquet hall at Cair Paravel, and she wondered for a moment the hall there had been restored. _At either side of _the table_ were many chairs of stone richly carved and with silken cushions upon the seats. But on the table itself there was set out such a banquet as had never been seen, not even when Peter the High King kept his court at Cair Paravel. There were turkeys and geese and peacocks, there were boars' heads and sides of venison, there were pies shaped like ships under full sail or like dragons and elephants, there were ice puddings and bright lobsters and gleaming salmon, there were nuts and grapes, pineapples and peaches, pomegranates and melons and tomatoes (2). There were flagons of gold and silver and curiously-wrought glass; and the smell of the fruit and the wine blew towards them like a promise of all happiness._

"_I __say_!_" said Lucy._

_They came nearer and nearer, all very quietly._

"_But where are the guests?" asked Eustace_. And Lucy smiled, because the Eustace who first entered Narnia would have immediately come up with a reason he deserved what was on the table, instead of asking who the guests were it belonged to.

"_We can provide that, Sir," said Rhince._

"_Look!" said Edmund sharply. They were actually within the pillars now and standing on the pavement. Everyone looked where Edmund had pointed. The chairs were not all empty. At the head of the table and in the two places beside it there was something – or possibly three somethings._

"_What are __those__?" said Lucy in a whisper. "It looks like three beavers sitting on the table," _she said, remembering times before the four had commanded lower tables for their smaller subjects, and Mr. and Mrs. Beaver had eaten while sitting on the table itself.

"_Or a huge bird's nest," said Edmund._

"_It looks more like a haystack to me," said Caspian._

_Reepicheep ran forward, jumped on a chair and thence on to the table, and ran along it, threading his way as nimbly as a dancer between jeweled cups and pyramids of fruit and ivory salt-cellars. He ran right up to the mysterious grey mass at the end: peered, touched, and then called out:_

"_These will not fight, I think."_

Lucy went closer, the others moving too, and stood by one of the chairs. It was an odd shape at first, but then she got a glimpse through the grey of a light brown, smooth surface she saw was an _arm_. She took a closer look, bending forward; the grey was hair, grown so long from their beards and heads that it had covered their faces, their plates, and the goblets, finally falling off the table to the floor. She straightened, pity on her face.

"_Dead?" said Caspian._

"_I think not, Sire," said Reepicheep, lifting one of their hands out of its tangle of hair in his two paws. This one is warm and his pulse beats._

"_This one, too, and this," said Drinian_. Lucy watched as the hands fell limply back when Drinian and Reepicheep gently released them.

"_Why, they're only asleep," said Eustace._

"_It's been a long sleep, though," said Edmund, "to let their hair grow like this."_

"_It must be an enchanted sleep," said Lucy. "I felt the moment we landed on this island that it was full of magic. Oh! do you think we have perhaps come here to break it?" _She wanted to; to see the three set free, woken up and living had broken enchantments before, on the Magician's Island, and then Aslan had banished the Dark Island when they came.

Caspian seemed to catch her fervour. _"We can try,"_ he_ said, and began shaking the nearest of the three sleepers. For a moment everyone thought he was going to be successful, for the mean breathed hard and muttered, "I'll go eastward no more. Out oars for Narnia." But he sank back almost at once into a yet deeper sleep than before: that is, his heavy head sagged a few inches lower towards the table and all efforts to rouse him again were useless. With the second it was much the same. "Weren't born to live like animals. Get to the east while you've a chance – lands behind the sun," and sank down. And the third_, whom Lucy and Reepicheep shook,_ only said, "Mustard, please," and slept hard._

"_Out oars for Narnia__, eh?" said Drinian._

"_Yes," said Caspian, "you are right, Drinian. I think our quest is at an end."_ Lucy's heart caught. But surely they still had to wake the three? They couldn't leave them like this. But Caspian was still speaking. "_Let's look at their rings. Yes, these are their devices. This is the Lord Revilian. This is the Lord Argoz: and this, the Lord Mavramorn."_

"_But we can't wake them," said Lucy. "What are we to do?"_

"_Begging your Majesties' pardon all," said Rhince, "but why not fall to while you're discussing it? We don't see a dinner like this every day."_

"_Not for your life!" said Caspian._

"_That's right, that's right," said several of the sailors. "Too much magic about here. The sooner we're back on board the better."_

"_Depend upon it," said Reepicheep, "it was from eating this food that these three lords came by a seven years' sleep."_

"_I wouldn't touch it to save my life," said Drinian._

"_The light's going uncommon quick," said Rynelf._

"_Back to the ship, back to the ship," muttered the men._

"_I really think," said Edmund, "they're right_." Lucy agreed. But what of the three lords? _"We can decided what to do with the three sleepers tomorrow. We daren't eat the food and there's no point in staying here for the night. The whole place smells of magic – and danger."_

"_I am entirely of King Edmund's opinion," said Reepicheep, "as far as concerns the ship's company in general. But I myself will sit a this table till sunrise."_

"_Why on earth?" said Eustace._

Oh Reepicheep, Lucy sighed silently. She knew why he was staying. He was good for her courage, she knew, but there were times she wished he wasn't such a good example. She did _not_ want to do this.

But she didn't want to leave the lords helpless either. Even if they had been that way for a long time.

"_Because," said the Mouse_, answering Eustace's question, _"this is a very great adventure, and no danger seems to me so great as that of knowing when I get back to Narnia that I left a mystery behind me through fear."_

"_I'll stay with you, Reep," said Edmund._

"_And I too," said Caspian._

"_And me," said Lucy. And then Eustace volunteered also. _Lucy couldn't help thinking _this was very brave of him because never having read of such things or even heard of them till he joined the _Dawn Treader_ made it worse for him than for the others._

"_I beseech your Majesty– " began Drinain._

"_No, my Lord," said Caspian. "Your place is with the ship, and you have had a day's work while we five have idled." _Drinian argued, indeed, the entire group of sailors chipped in, but Lucy went and took Edmund and Eustace's hands and let Caspian bring order. She knew they would not be leaving that night. _In the end Caspian had his way. As the crew marched off to the shore in the gather dusk none of the five watchers, except perhaps Reepicheep, could avoid a cold feeling in the stomach. _Lucy looked around. She wandered up and down the table, noticing the others doing the same. _Probably everyone had the same reason but no one wanted to say it out loud. For it was really a rather nasty choice. One could hardly bear to sit all night next to those three terrible hairy objects which, if not dead, were certainly not alive in the ordinary sense. _Lucy wanted to rescue them, but she didn't necessarily want to be _near_ them. _On the other hand, to sit at the far end, so that you would see them less and less as the night grew darker, and wouldn't know if they were moving, and perhaps wouldn't see them at all by about two o'clock – no, it was not to be thought of._

Edmund placed his hand on a chair. _"What about here_?" Lucy shook her head; it was only a few chairs away from the sleepers.

"_Or perhaps a bit further on_," she said, and they walked a bit further. _At last they settled down somewhere about the middle but nearer to the sleepers than to the other end_. Caspian and Reepicheep sat in the two closest chairs; Edmund was next to Lucy, and Eustace across from them. The night was growing dark, and Lucy could barely see the end of the table. _Those strange new constellations burned in the east. Lucy would have liked it better if they had been the Leopard and the Ship and other old friends of the Narnian sky. _She shivered, and got up to wrap herself in her sea cloak; the others followed suit (3). Then they_ sat still and waited. At first there was some attempt to talk but it didn't come to much_. Lucy knew why. There was a silence that quieted the noise and the expectation took all one's attention. _And they sat and sat. And all the time they heard the waves breaking on the beach._

_After hours that seemed like ages there came a moment when they all knew they had been dozing a moment before but were all suddenly wide awake_. Lucy glanced at the three lords; they were all three unmoving._ The stars were all in quite different positions from those they had last noticed. The sky was very black except fro the faintest possible greyness in the east. They were cold, though thirsty, and stiff. And none of them spoke because now at last something was happening._

OOOOO

(1) This isn't a direct quote from the book, but Lewis did write, "The Lord Rhoop remained on board the _Dawn Treader_. He wished to see no more islands" p. 146.  
(2) Well I wasn't hungry _before_ I copied that. But the fruit got to me. (Munches on the nearest snack, which happens to be Chex cereal. Nope, not as good as pineapples, peaches, grapes, and pomegranates sound. But far easier to eat while typing.)  
(3) Paraphrased from p. 151


	21. 21: The Daughter and the Star

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Daughter and the Star**

Disclaimer: I've been told that in my parents' time there was a company that, for a price, would provide you with a paper that proved you owned a star. As a child I wondered at the thought; who owned the stars, that they could sell them? And as an adult I realized the stars weren't made to be owned, for the sky in a strange way belongs to the earth. Narnia is much the same. This other world belongs in a strange way to those in our world, and yet it will never be mine in the sense of papers, money, and _mine_.

_Anything italicized is a direct quote; _there are a few times when I left some sentences out, but not many_._

OOOOO

_Before them, beyond the pillars, there was the slope of a low hill. And now a door opened in the hillside, and light appeared in the doorway, and a figure came out, and the door shut behind it. The figure carried a light, and this light was really all that they could see distinctly. It came slowly nearer and nearer till at last it stood right at the table opposite to them. Now they could see that it was tall girl, dressed in a single long garment of clear blue which left her arms bare. She was bareheaded and her yellow hair hung down her back. And when they looked at her they thought they had never before known what beauty meant._

_The light which she had been carrying was a tall candle in a silver candlestick which she now set upon the table. Gold and silver on the table shone in its light._

_Lucy now noticed something lying lengthwise on the table which had escaped her attention before. It was a knife of stone, sharp as steel, a cruel-looking, ancient-looking thing_. And something about it brought to mind a great grief, though she could not have told you why.

_No one had yet spoken a word. Then – Reepicheep first, and Caspian next – they all rose to their feet, because they felt that she was a great lady_. She had the grace and beauty of Susan, Lucy thought, and the strength of Peter. She was the kind of person people were drawn to.

"_Travellers who have come from far to Aslan's table," said the girl. "Why do you not eat and drink?" _Lucy thought she had a voice more piercing than the song of a mermaid, and clearer than the voice of a dryad calling to the wind.

"_Madam," said Caspian, "we feared the food because we thought it had cast our friends into an enchanted sleep."_

"_They have never tasted it," she said._

"_Please," said Lucy,_ knowing she would know the answer, and knowing that they needed the answer, "what_ happened to them?"_

"_Seven years ago," said the girl, "they came here in a ship whose sails were rags and her timbers ready to fall apart. There were a few others with them, sailors, and when they came to this table one said, 'Here is the good place. Let us set our sail and reef sail and row no longer but sit down and end our days in peace!' And the second said, 'No, let us re-embark and sail for Narnia and the west; it may be that Miraz is dead.' But the third, who was a very masterful man, leaped up and said, 'No, by heaven. We are men and Telmarines, not brutes. What should we do but seek adventure after adventure? We have not long to live in any event. Let us spend what is left in seeking the unpeopled world behind the sunrise.' And as they quarreled he caught up the Knife of Stone which lies there on the table and would have fought with is comrades. But it is a thing not right for him to touch. And as his fingers closed upon the hilt, deep sleep fell upon all the three. And till the enchantment is undone they will never wake." _Lucy glanced at the three, saddened.

"_What is this Knife of Stone?" asked Eustace_, and Lucy's eyes traveled from the three lords to the knife on the table. The grief she felt on seeing it had not lessened, and the memory came to her mind of a white hand and arm, a cruel face twitching with passion, and the knife plunging to kill the being she loved the most. Surely - why would it be here?

"_Do none of you know it?" said the girl._

"_I – I think," said Lucy, "I've seen something like it before. It was knife like it that the White Witch used when she killed Aslan at the Stone Table long ago."_

"_It was the same," said the girl, "and it was brought here to be kept in honour while the world lasts."_

_Edmund, who, _Lucy noticed_, had been looking more and more uncomfortable for the last few minutes, now spoke._

"_Look here," he said, "I hope I'm not a coward – about eating this food, I mean – and I'm sure I don't mean to be rude. But we have had a lot of queer adventures on this voyage of ours and things aren't always what they seem. When I look in your face I can't help believing all you say: but then that's just what might happen with a witch too. How are we to know you're a friend?" _Lucy stilled. Edmund's skepticism had saved his siblings at various times in the past; but she looked at the face of the girl and didn't believe it. It couldn't be, it couldn't, that she wasn't telling the truth. Lucy didn't know how she knew, but she _knew_. She wondered how the girl would answer Edmund's question.

"_You can't know," said the girl. "You can only believe – or not."_

_After a moment's pause Reepicheep's small voice was heard._

"_Sire," he said to Caspian, "of your courtesy fill my cup with wine from that flagon: it is too big for me to lift. I will drink to the lady."_

_Caspian obeyed and the Mouse, standing on the table, held up a golden cup between its tiny paws and said, "Lady, I pledge you." _Lucy held her breath; Courage was being tested, and as Reepicheep drank and then set down the cup and still stood upright, her heart thrilled. Courage had been proven right. Reepicheep turned and bowed to the lady. _Then it fell on cold peacock, and in a short while everyone else followed its example. All were very hungry and the meal, if not quite what you wanted for a very early breakfast, was excellent as a very late supper._

Lucy, tasting the pineapple and grapes, let her eyes run down all the food. It was a feast greater than any she had seen before. What had the girl called it? Aslan's table – _"Why is it called Aslan's table?" she asked presently._

"_It is set here by his bidding," said the girl, "for those who come so far. Some call this island the World's End, for though you can sail further, this is the beginning of the end."_

"_But how does the food __keep__?" asked the practical Eustace._

"_It is eaten and renewed every day," said the girl. "This you will see."_

"_And what are we to do with the Sleepers?" asked Caspian. "In the world from which my friends come" (here he nodded _at Lucy and her brother and cousin_) "they have a story of a prince or king coming to a castle where all the people lay in an enchanted sleep. In that story her could not dissolve the enchantment until he had kissed the Princess." _Lucy remembered that night; after the Sea Serpent Eustace had asked if other fairy tale creatures existed, and Caspian had asked what a Fairy Tale was. Eustace had begun telling Sleeping Beauty, but in such a way that Caspian kept on asking questions and interrupting the tale, till Edmund took over and told it with the style of Narnian storytelling. And then they'd told Eustace about Father Christmas, and centaurs, and many creatures Eustace had not heard of, having not read the right books (1). Lucy wondered if the rules of fairy tales would be the same on islands in a different world.

"_But here," said the girl, it is different. Here he cannot kiss the Princess till he has dissolved the enchantment."_

"_Then," said Caspian, "in the name of Aslan, show me how to set about that work at once." _Yes, thought Lucy. Though it's the beginning of the end of our voyage, too, show us how to set them free.

"_My father will teach you that," said the girl._

"_Your father!" said everyone. "Who is he? And where?"_

_Look," said the girl, turning round and pointing at the door in the hillside. They could see it more easily now, for while they had been talking the stars had grown fainter and great gaps of white light were appearing in the greyness of the eastern sky._

_Slowly the door opened again and out there came a figure as tall and straight as the girl's but not so slender. It carried no light but light seemed to come from it. As it came nearer, Lucy saw that it was like an old man. His silver beard came down to his bare feet in front and his silver hair hung down to his heels behind and his robe appeared to be made from the fleece of silver sheep. He looked so mild and grave that once more all the travelers rose to their feet and stood in silence._

_But the old man came on without speaking to the travellers and stood on the other side of the table opposite to his daughter. Then both of them held up their arms before them and turned to face the east. In that position they began to sing. _Lucy thought it was _high, almost shrill, but very beautiful, "a cold kind of song, an early morning kind of song." And as they sang, the grey clouds lifted from the eastern sky and the white patches grew bigger and bigger till it was all white, and the sea began to shine like silver. And long afterwards (but those two sang all the time) the east began to turn red and at last, unclouded, the sun came up out of the sea and its long level ray shot down the length of the table on the gold and silver and on the Stone Knife._

Lucy, looking at the sun, was certain the sun was larger than it ever had been. _There was no mistaking it. And the brightness of its ray on the dew and on the table was far beyond any morning brightness they had ever seen. For now they knew that they had truly come to the beginning of the End of the World._

_Then something seemed to be flying at them out of the very centre of the rising sun: but of course on couldn't look steadily in that direction to make sure. But presently the air became full of voices – voices that took up the same song that the Lady and her Father were singing, but in far wilder tones and in a language which on one knew. And soon after that the owners of these voices could be seen. They were birds, large and white _(they reminded Lucy of the Albatross)_, and they came by hundreds and thousands and alighted on everything; on the grass, and the pavement, on the table, on your shoulders, your hands, and your head _(their feathers were softer than the fathers of the newborn chicks Lucy had held in Narnia, and the feet resting on her were light)_, till it looked as if heavy snow had fallen. For, like snow, they not only made everything white but blurred and blunted all shapes. But Lucy, looking out from between the wings of the birds that covered her, saw one bird fly to the Old Man with something in its beak that looked like a little fruit, unless it was a little live coal, which it might have been, for it was too bright to look at. And the bird laid it in the Old Man's mouth._

_Then the birds stopped their singing and appeared to be very busy about the table._ The four birds on Lucy's shoulders, hands, and hair rose and joined the others, the entire flock blurring the table in white._ When they rose from it again everything on the table that could be eaten or drunk had disappeared. These birds rose from their meal in their thousands and hundreds and carried away all the things that could not be eaten or drunk, such as bones, rinds, and shells, and took their flight back to the rising sun. But now, because they were not singing, the whir of their wings seemed to set the whole air a-tremble. And there was the table pecked clean and empty, and the three old Lords of Narnia still fast asleep._

_Now at last the Old Man turned to the travelers and bade them welcome._ And Lucy responded like a queen, recognizing that here was another to whom honor was owed.

"_Sir," said Caspian, "will you tell us how to undo the enchantment which holds these three Narnian Lords asleep." _Please, Aslan, added Lucy silently.

"_I will gladly tell you that, my son," said the Old Man. "To break this enchantment you must sail to the World's End, or as near as you can come to it, and you must come back having left at least one of your company behind."_

"_And what must happen to that one?" asked Reepicheep._

"_He must go on to the utter east and never return into the world."_

"_That is my heart's desire," said Reepicheep_, and Lucy smiled with joy, for it was like Aslan to set a task for the ones utterly His own that would be their hearts desire, whatever the ones not His own called such tasks.

"_And are we near the World's End now, Sir?" asked Caspian. "Have you any knowledge of the seas and lands further east than this?"_

"_I saw them long ago," said the Old Man, "but it was from a great height. I cannot tell you such things as sailors need to know."_

"_Do you mean you were flying in the air?" Eustace blurted out._

"_I was a long way above the air, my son," replied the Old Man. "I am Ramandu. But I see you stare at one another and have not heard this name. And no wonder, for the days when I was star had ceased long before any of you knew this world, and all the constellations have changed."_

"_Golly," said Edmund under his breath. "he's a __retired__ star."_

"_Aren't you a star any longer?" asked Lucy._

"_I am a star at rest, my daughter," answered Ramandu. "When I set for the last time, decrepit and old beyond all that you can reckon, I was carried to this island. I am not so old now as I was then. Every morning a bird brings me a fire-berry from the valleys in the Sun, and each fire-berry takes away a little of my age. And when I have become as young as the child that was born yesterday, then I shall take my rising again (for we are at earth's eastern rim) and once more tread the great dance."_

"_In our world," said Eustace, "a star is a huge ball of flaming gas."_

"_Even in your world, my son, that is not what a star is but only what it is made of. And in this world you have already met a star: for I think you have been with Coriakin."_

"_Is he a retired star, too?" said Lucy_, his gentle humor and wisdom springing to mind. He seemed younger than Ramandu, and she wondered if he'd rise to the star's dance sooner.

"_Well, not quite the same," said Ramandu. "It was not was not quite as a rest that he was set to govern the Duffers. You might call it a punishment. He might have shone for thousands of years more in the southern winter sky if all had gone well."_

"_What did he do, Sir?" asked Caspian._

"_My son," said Ramandu, "it is not for you, a son of Adam, to know what faults a star can commit. But come, we waste time in such talk. Are you yet resolved? Will you sail further east and come again, leaving one to return no more, and so break the enchantment? Or will you sail westward?"_

"_Surely, Sire," said Reepicheep, "there is no question about that? It is very plainly part of our quest to rescue these three lords from enchantment."_

"_I think the same, Reepicheep," replied Caspian. "And even if it were not so, it would break my heart not to go as near the World's End as the _Dawn Treader_ will take us." _Lucy, too, was curious to see how this world ended at its ridge, and was ready to offer her own encouragement. But Caspian added an objection. _"But I am thinking of the crew. They signed on to seek the seven lords, not to reach the rim of the Earth. If we sail east from here we sail to find the edge, the utter east. And no one knows how far it is. They're brave fellows, but I see signs that some of them are weary of the voyage and long to have our prow pointing to Narnia again. I don't think I should take them further without their knowledge and consent. And then there's the poor Lord Rhoop. He's a broken man."_

"_My son," said the star, "it would be no use, even though you wished it, to sail for the World's End with men unwilling or men deceived. That is not how great unenchantments are achieved. They must know where they go and why. But who is this broken man you speak of?"_

_Caspian told Ramandu the story of Rhoop_, and Ramandu offered to give Lord Rhoop what he needed most, a sleep without the faintest stirring of a dream.

"_Oh, do let's do that, Caspian," said Lucy. "I'm sure it's just what he would love."_ Before Caspian could offer his agreement – or disagreement – voices interrupted the quiet, and _Drinian and the rest of the ship's company_ entered the clearing, halting _in surprise when they saw Ramandu and his daughter; and then, because they were obviously great people, every man uncovered his head._ Caspian sent sailors back to the ship to offer Lord Rhoop the company of his fellow lords and a deep, dreamless, sleep.

While they waited for a return, Caspian turned to the ship's company and told them what had been learned, and what task lay before them – if they would accept it.

Lucy listened as the sailors began to talk, and heard that Caspian was right – many of them did long for home. The older sailors agreed that after the New Years the winds would change, and the ship could head for home; and as they spoke of staying on the island the entire winter, eating at Aslan's table, her heart sank.

His table was as generous as his heart, but it wasn't _Him_.

And what of the three lords?

Not all the crew agreed. Rynelf started speaking for the rest, saying they had set out for an adventure, and would look as silly as Dufflepuds if they came this far, then went home without going the rest of the way (2).

Lucy watched their faces and listened. About half the crew were hanging back, lured by the promise of a great feast each night and then a known sea on the way home.

Only it wasn't her home, she realized with a start. It's what made her so lonely, sitting and listening to them. Narnia would always welcome her, but it had become home again on her last visit only when Aslan had been with her. By His side she always had a place, a purpose, and she _belonged_. On the _Dawn Treader_ she had a purpose and a place as well, but there wasn't one back in Narnia.

And she wanted to finish this task, and free the remaining lords. She looked to Edmund; he was whispering with Caspian. She turned to Reepicheep, who had remained by her side. _"Aren't you going to say anything, Reep?"_ she _whispered._

"_No. Why should your Majesty expect it?" answered Reepicheep in a voice that most people heard. "my own plans are made. While I can, I sail east in the _Dawn Treader_. When she fails me, I paddle east in my coracle. When she sinks, I shall swim east with my four paws. And when I can swim no longer, if I have not reached Aslan's country, or shot over the edge of the world in some vast cataract, I shall sink with my nose to the sunrise and Peepiceek will be head of the talking mice in Narnia."_

"_Here, here," said a sailor, "I'll say the same, barring the bit about the coracle, which wouldn't bear me." He added in a lower voice, "I'm not going to be outdone by a mouse."_

_At this point Caspian jumped to his feet. "Friends," he said, "I think you have not quite understood our purpose. You talk as if we had come to you with our hat in our hand, begging for shipmates. It isn't like that at all. We and our royal brother and sister and their kinsman and Sir Reepicheep, the good knight, and the Lord Drinian have an errand to the world's edge. It is our pleasure to choose from among such of you as are willing those whom we deem worthy of so high an enterprise. That is why we shall now command the Lord Drinian and Master Rhince to consider carefully what men among you are the hardest in battle, the most skilled seamen, the purest in blood, the most loyal to our person, and the cleanest of life and manners; and to give their names to us in a schedule." He paused and went on in a quicker voice, "Aslan's mane!" he exclaimed. "Do you think that the privilege of seeing the last things is to be bought for a song? Why, every man that comes with us shall bequeath the title of Dawn Treader to all his descendents, and when we land at Cair Paravel on the homeward voyage he shall have either gold or land enough to make him rich all his life. Now – scatter over the island, all of you. In half an hour's time I shall receive the names that Lord Drinian brings me."_

Lucy watched as the crew made sheepish bows and moved away, talking; and she saw the uncertainty in those who had wanted to stay. Caspian had a heart that moved him to adventure, and he was able to tell them why. She looked back to him, thinking how glad she was that he was Narnia's king.

"_And now for Lord Rhoop," said Caspian_. But Lucy had seen him come while Caspian was speaking, and the daughter of Ramandu and come to him and escorted him to a chair, gently setting him beside Lord Argoz. Now _Ramandu stood behind him and laid both his hands on Rhoop's grey head. Even in daylight a faint silver light came from the hands of the star. There was a smile on Rhoop's haggard face. He held out one of his hands to Lucy and the other to Caspian. For a moment it looked as if he were going to say something. Then his smile brightened as if he were feeling some delicious sensation, a long sigh of contentment came from his lips, his head fell forward, and he slept._

"_Poor Rhoop," said Luc. "I __am__ glad. He must have had terrible times."_

"_Don't let's even think of it," said Eustace._ And Lucy agreed. She asked Eustace what he now thought of stars in their world instead. "How can something not be what it's made of?" Eustace asked.

"Well, we're not," said Lucy. "We're made of blood and brains and things. But that isn't what we _are_. We're people."

"Then what do you think a star is in our world?"

"It's light," said Edmund, who had been listening. And Lucy, listening to them discuss symbolism, being, and blessings, smiled, for it seemed a good conversation to have next to Aslan's table.

The next half hour passed swiftly, more and more men talking to each other and deciding that they didn't want to be left out of the coming voyage, and then going to Drinian and Rhince and almost begging them to add his name to the list to be presented to Caspian. _And soon there were only three left who didn't want to go, and those three were trying very hard to persuade the others to stay with them. And very shortly after that there was only one left. And in the end he began to be afraid of being left behind all on his own _– Lucy could see the fear on his face, she could identify fears more easily now – _and changed his mind. _When the half hour was over, and the men presented, Caspian took all the men except the one who had changed his mind because of fear. He stayed on Ramandu's island, and Lucy never learned what became of him.

_That night they all ate and drank together at the great Table between the pillars where the feast was magically renewed: and next morning the _Dawn Treader_ set sail once more just when the great birds had come and gone again._

Lucy stood beside Caspian as he watched the island disappear. She had heard him, the night before, promise the daughter of the star to speak with her when Caspian came again, when the enchantment was broken. And as the island grew smaller she hoped the birds flying each morning would remind Caspian that he would be going back, one day, to speak with Ramandu's daughter again.

OOOOO

(1) Taken from several chapters ago, when Eustace had been turned into a dragon and Lewis writes, "as I said before, Eustace had read only the wrong books. They had a lot to say about exports and imports and governments and drains, but they were weak on dragons" p. 70.

(2) p. 162 paraphrased


	22. 22: The Light and the Sea

**Chapter Twenty-Two: The Light and the Sea**

Disclaimer: I've flown over the ocean many times in an airplane, but I've never sailed over it, and the sea that Lewis created is far beyond my imagination's capability. I'm writing reflections of his world, and they're not mine.  
_Anything italicized is a direct quote; _there are a few times when I left some sentences out, but not many_._

A/N: There's only two more chapters left, which means I should finish this either next week or the one after. I'm not sure whether to be sad (I've loved working so closely with Lewis's words) or be relieved that I can work on all the untold stories.

Lucy wrote less, in the following days, but thought more. For _very soon after they left Ramandu's country they began to feel that they had already sailed beyond the world. All was different._ Lucy found herself sleeping less and less, less time in the cabin Caspian had once given up for her, and more time sitting outside. She did not want to sleep, nor eat, nor even speak much; but she watched the world with wondering eyes, and found many of the crew doing the same.

For the world was different. Especially the light. _There was too much of it. The sun when it came up each morning looked twice, if not three times, it's usual size_. And every morning, as it rose, the wild, high song of the birds echoed over the calm sea, and the huge white wings fluttered overhead, and Lucy's heart ached to understand the song sung_ with human voices in a language no one knew_.

But it was not just the things of air that occupied her. The things of water changed as well; the water became so clear Lucy could watch the shadow of the _Dawn Treader_ running on the bottom of the sea, often so far away it was the _size of a shoe._ It was another thing to marvel at; she was _seeing the bottom of the sea; fathoms and fathoms down_. And she began to watch the world of the sea more.

_At present, for instance, they were passing over a mass of soft purply green with a broad, winding strip of pale grey in the middle of it. She could see that bits of the dark stuff were much higher than other bits and were waving gently. "Just like trees in the wind," said Lucy. "And I do believe that' what they are. It's a submarine forest."_

_They passed on above it and presently the pale streak was joined by another pale streak. "If I was down there," thought Lucy, "that streak would be just like a road through the wood. And that place where it joins the other would be a crossroads. Oh, I do wish I was. Hallo! the forest is coming to an end. And I do believe the streak really was a road! I can still see it going on across the open sand. It's a different colour. And it's marked out with something at the edges - dotted lines. Perhaps they are stones. And now it's getting wider."_

_But it was not really getting wider, it was getting nearer._ Of course, the ocean floor was rising for a moment. Lucy _realised this because of the way in which the shadow of the ship came rushing up towards her_, growing larger and faster and even running over the road._ And the road - she felt sure it was a road now - began to go in zigzags. Obviously it was climbing up a steep hill. And _she wondered for a moment if it was walked on, or if whoever used it swam just above it. And what it would be like, to walk where the shafts of sunlight fell through water to reach the forest, and to look up and see a watery blue instead of the airy blue of the sky.

But she _could not, however, spend much time looking back; what was coming into view in the forward direction was too exciting. The road had apparently now reached the top of the hill and ran straight forward. Little specks were moving to and fro on it. And now something most wonderful, fortunately in full sunlight - or as full as it can be when it falls through fathoms of water - flashed into sight. It was knobbly and jagged and of a peraly, or perhaps an ivory, colour. She was so nearly straight above it that at first she could hardly make out what it was. But everything became plain when she noticed its shadow. The sunlight was falling across Lucy's shoulders, so the shadow of the thing lay stretched out on the sand behind it. And by its shape she saw clearly that it was a shadow of towers and pinnacles, minarets and domes. _

"_Why! - it's a city or a huge castle," said Lucy to herself. "But I wonder why they've built it on top of a high mountain?"_

_Long afterwards when she was back in England and talked all these adventures over with Edmund, they thought of a reason and I am pretty sure it is the true one. In the sea, the deeper you go, the darker and colder it gets, and ti is down there, in the dark and cold, that dangerous things live - the squid and the Sea Serpent and the Kraken. The valleys are the wild, unfriendly places. The sea-people feel about their valleys as we do about mountains, and feel about their mountains as we feel about valleys. It is on the heights (or, as we would say, "in the shallows") that there is warmth and peace. The reckless hunters and brave knights of the sea go down into the depths on quests and adventures, but return home to the heights for rest and peace, courtesy and council, the sports, the dances and the songs._

But Lucy did not know this yet; she was bent over the side, looking eagerly for more. And she saw it.

People, mer-people, _fifteen or twenty of them, and all mounted on sea-horses. They must be noble and lordly people, Lucy thought, for she could catch the gleam of gold on some of their foreheads and streamers of emerald- or -orange coloured stuff fluttered from their shoulders in the current. _Watching them interact with the fish that were also swimming in the shallows, Lucy realised they were releasing fierce fish from their wrists to catch the other fish, as Narnians or even English lords would in hunting or hawking parties.

It was a whole world that was yet like her own.

But it didn't last. _The Sea People had noticed the _Dawn Treader_. The shoal of fish scattered in every direction: the People themselves were coming up to find out the meaning of this big, black thing which had come between them and the sun. And now they were so close to the surface that if they had been in air, instead of water, Lucy could have spoken to them. _She looked at them and saw them as she had seen other lords and other nations; the wealth and clothing and jewels, and the _King in the centre (no one could mistake him for anything but the King) looked proudly and fiercely into Lucy's face and shook a spear in his hand. His knights did the same. The faces of the ladies were filled with astonishment. Lucy felt sure they had never seen a ship or a human before - and how should they, in seas beyond the world's end where no ship ever came?_ She wished she could have spoken to them, called out peace and greetings in Aslan's name, and seen if she could have made a friend. But how would it have worked, when they lived entirely beneath the water, in ways even the mer-people did not? Or maybe they could breathe air and were just too astonished?

"_What are you staring at, Lu?" said a voice close beside her._

_Lucy had been so absorbed in what she was seeing that she started at the sound, and when she turned she found that her arm had gone "dead" from leaning so long on the rail in one position. Drinian and Edmund were beside her. _

"_Look," she said_, wondering if Edmund could find a way where she could not, to speak to them.

_They both looked, but almost at once Drinian said in a low voice:_

"_Turn round at once, your Majesties - that's right, with our backs to the sea. And don't look as if we were talking about anything important."_

"_Why, what's the matter?" said Lucy as she obeyed._

"_It'll never do for the sailors to see __all that__," said Drinian. We'll have men falling in love with a sea-woman, or falling in love with the under-sea country itself, and jumping overboard._" Lucy wondered at that; even she knew that wouldn't work when they could not breathe water._ "I've heard of that kind of thing happening before in strange seas. It's always unlucky to see __these__ people."_

"_But we used to know them," said Lucy. "In the old days at Cair Paravel when my brother Peter was High King. They came to the surface and sang at our coronation." _

"_I think that must have been a different kind, Lu," said Edmund. "They could live in the air as well as under water. I rather think these can't. By the look of them they'd have surfaced and started attacking us long ago if they could. They seem very fierce."_

Drinian was about to reply - the first words out of his mouth - when _two sounds were heard_, a _plop_, and a voice crying _"Man overboard!"_ At once the ship was alive with people, taking in sails to slow the ship, others running to the helm to tell Rhince to turn around.

"Who is it?" Lucy called, looking frantically around, remembering Edmund's saying that the Sea People looked fierce. Not Caspian, running from below, not Eustace, at the side, looking over and trying to find the person who'd fallen.

"It's Reepicheep!" came Eustace's voice. "He jumped in the sea!"

"_Drat that mouse!" said Drinian. "It's more trouble than all the rest of the ship's company put together. If there is any scrape to be got in, in it will get! It ought to be put in irons - keel-hauled - marooned - have its whiskers cut off. Can anyone see the little blighter?" _Lucy heard the echo of Peter and Orieus's anger, when they'd been in danger, the anger fueled by fear for a loved friend. _No one, of course, was afraid of Reepicheep's drowning, for he was an excellent swimmer; but the three who knew what was going on below the water were afraid of those long, cruel spears in the hands of the Sea People._

_In a few minutes the _Dawn Treader_ had come round and everyone could see the black blob in the water which was Reepicheep. He was chattering with the greatest excitement but as his mouth kept on getting filled with water nobody could understand what he was saying._

Drinian, anxious to keep the Sea People a secret, rushed to the side and lowered himself down, _shouting to the sailors, "All right, all right. Back to your places. I hope I can heave a __mouse__ up without help." _Lucy, watching from the side, saw him whisper to the climbing mouse, and breathed a sigh of relief. Reepicheep was unharmed, and Drinian didn't seem to be taking out his anger on the knight.

Reepicheep was unfazed; as soon as his dripping feet stood on the deck he was speaking.

"_Sweet!" he cheeped. "Sweet, sweet!"_

Sweet? Lucy wondered. Surely not the fierce people.

"_What are you talking about?" asked Drinian crossly. "And you needn't shake yourself all over __me__, either."_

"_I tell you the water's sweet," said the Mouse. "Sweet, fresh. It isn't salt."_

_For a moment no one quite took in the importance of this. But then Reepicheep once more repeated the old prophecy: _

"_Where the waves grow sweet,_

_Doubt not, Reepicheep,_

_There is the utter East."_

_Then at last everyone understood. _

The utter East. Lucy's heart thrilled; a place of light, white wings, and submerged cities; a place where the waters ran sweet.

The crew decided to test it; Drinian lowered a bucket, and drew it up with _water _that _shone in it like glass_.

"_Perhaps your Majesty would like to taste it first," said Drinian to Caspian._

_The King took the bucket in both hands, raised it to his lips, sipped, then drank deeply and raised his head. His face was changed. Not only his eyes but everything about him seemed to be brighter._

"_Yes," he said, "it is sweet. That's real water, that. I'm not sure that it isn't going to kill me. But it is the death I would have chosen - if I'd know about it till now."_

"_What do you mean?" asked Edmund._

"_It - it's like light more than anything else," said Caspain. _

"_That is what it is," said Reepicheep. "Drinkable light. We must be very near the end of the world now."_

_There was a moment's silence and then Lucy knelt down on the deck and drank from the bucket. _

"_It's the loveliest thing I have ever tasted," she said with a kind of gasp. "But oh - it's strong. We shan't need to __eat__ anything now."_

_And one by one everybody on board drank_. And one by one Lucy watched their faces, their eyes, everything about them brighten.

That night the sun went down; and when it rose the next morning, the light was stronger, greater, than it had been before, _but they could bear it_. _They could look straight up at the sun without blinking_, and everywhere, Lucy saw the light, reflected on the ropes, the wood, the sails, and most of all in the faces and bodies of those who shared her home. And when the birds flew overhead she could see every feather as they flew on the light itself towards Ramandu's island.

They did not eat, _the water was enough for them_, the water and the light. It was a world unlike any Lucy knew, but it was a world that made the ones who entered belong.


	23. 23: A White Land

**Chapter Twenty-Three: A White Land**

Disclaimer: I dare not lay claim to Aslan's country, and even the journey there has been appointed for me.

A/N: I admit I added interpretation to _why_ Caspian acted the way he did; in the middle of a glorious country, growing stronger, I had to think about it for a bit. Because of that, I'd love to hear any other ideas as to why he lost all sense and courtesy here; this is only my guess.

The excitement of the water and the light lasted for days. Before it ended _Lucy and Drinian_ took Reepicheep _aside and warned him not to mention what he had seen. _But the warning was hardly needed, for the sea over which they were sailing turned out to be uninhabited. Only _Lucy saw anything more of the People, and even she had only one short glimpse._ She saw a shoal of fish, eating the weeds on one of the underwater mountains, moving slowly in the same direction. _"Just like a flock of sheep," thought Lucy. Suddenly she saw a little Sea Girl of about her own age in the middle of them - a quiet, lonely-looking girl with a sort of crook in her hand. Lucy felt sure that this girl must be a shepherdess - or perhaps a fish-herdess - and that the shoal was really a flock at pasture. Both the fishes and the girl were quite close to the surface. And just as the girl, gliding in the shallow water, and Lucy, leaning over the bulwark, came opposite to one another, the girl looked up and stared straight into Lucy's face. Netiehr could speak to the other and in a moment the Sea girl dropped astern. But Lucy will never forget her face. It did not look frightened or angry like those of the other Sea People. Lucy had liked that girl and she felt certain the girl had liked her. In that one moment they had somehow become friends. There does not seem to be much chance of their meeting again in that world or any other. But if ever they do they will rush together with their hands held out. _

That was the last Lucy saw of the Sea People. All that was left was the sea, the current rushing the _Dawn Treader _forward, the water of the sea that was stronger than food, and the light. _Every day and every hour the light became more brilliant and still they could bear it. No one ate or slept and no one wanted to, but they drew buckets of dazzling water from the sea, stronger than wine, and somehow wetter, more liquid, than ordinary water, and pledged one another silently in deep draughts of it. And one or two of the sailors who had been oldish men when the voyage began now grew younger every day. _The ship was filled with the joy of a solemn, full heart. _The stillness of that last sea laid hold on them. _

But something changed. Edmund came to get Lucy as she looked at their wake, the light dancing off the waves and onto the wood of her home.

"We are sailing into something white, something that looks like ice," Edmund said. "We're putting out the oars to row against the current." Lucy went with him, though she couldn't row. But in the eyes of the sailors she saw it; even in the motion of rowing there was joy, to feel oneself strong and moving. And they slowed the ship more and more as they approached the strange whiteness. For it _did not get any less mysterious as they approached it. If it was land it must be a very strange land, for it seemed just as smooth as the water and on the same level with it. When they got very close to it Drinian put the helm hard over and turned the _Dawn Treader_ south so that she was broadside on to the current and rowed a little way southward along the edge of the whiteness. In so doing they accidentally made the important discovery that the current was only about forty feet wide and the rest of the sea as still as a pond. This was good news for the crew, who had already begun to think that the return journey to Ramandu's land, rowing against stream all the way, would be pretty poor sport._ Lucy had not thought about the return journey. It did not seem to be for her, though she could not have told you why.

_And still no one could make out what the white stuff was. Then the boat was lowered and it put off to investigate. _Lucy joined those on the boat, sitting in the stern. The other sailors joined, Rynelf sitting closest to her, and they went forward, Lucy with both hands on the boat's sides. It got closer; it looked soft, separate, like feathers that fall until they become one blur of color; closer still, and she sat back in surprise.

"Flowers!" she said in surprise. "Look!"

And the rowers paused a moment, their voices joining hers in surprise, for the whiteness before them was made entirely of flowers.

"Forward!" Rynelf called, and the rowers took up oars again, passing through the rest of the water and into the whiteness itself, an unending field of flowers, covering the waters of the sweet sea in every direction. Lucy leaned to the side, careful not to tip the boat, and ran her hand along the flowers. They were lilies, soft, wet, as gentle to the touch as flowers after they're watered in England or Narnia. She looked at Rynelf, smiling, then turned in her bench to gather an armful of them, pulling them into the boat. She laughed in delight; their beauty was a white shot faintly with gold, and their smell was the smell of flowers after rain. The sailors shipped their oars, bending down to touch the flowers as well, the boat gently rocking; many gathered up armfuls as well, till the boat was filled with white; Rynelf _took a sounding_. Then he sat and put out his oars, and they turned back to the _Dawn Treader,_ hovering on the edge of the flower field. As soon as they were in earshot the side of the ship towering above them filled with sailors, curiosity on their faces.

_"Lilies, your Majesty!" shouted Rynelf, standing up in the bows._

"What_ did you say?" asked Caspian._

"_Blooming lilies, your Majesty," said Rynelf. "Same as in a pool or in a garden at home."_

"_Look!" said Lucy. She held up her wet arms full of white petals and broad flat leaves._

"_What's the depth, Rynelf?" asked Drinian._

"_That's the funny thing, Captain," said Rynelf. "It's still deep. Three and a half fathoms clear."_

They weren't English lilies, of course, growing in water that deep. But they were soft, and wouldn't damage the ship, and so the _Dawn Treader_ moved back into the current, sailing through what the crew named the _Silver Sea_. It was _the strangest part of their travels. Very soon the open sea which they were leaving was only a thin rim of blue on the western horizon. Whiteness, shot with faintest colour of gold, spread round them on every side, except just astern where their passage had thrust the lilies apart and left an open lane of water that shone like dark green glass. To look at, this last sea was very like the Arctic; and if their eyes had not by now grown as strong as the eagles' the sun on all that whiteness - especially at early morning when the sun was hugest - would have been unbearable. And every evening the same whiteness made the daylight last longer. _The world was white, filled with light, and a sweet, _a fresh, wild, lonely smell_ _that made you feel that you could go up mountains at a run or wrestle with an elephant. _

They sailed for days, and the Silver Sea never ceased. But the water did; it grew shallower and shallower, and one day they left the current to continue at a snail's pace, so they wouldn't be pushed aground. Soon after _it was clear that the _Dawn Treader_ could sail no further east. _And Caspian called for the men to come after. Lucy came with them, and stood, uneasy. Caspian's eyes and face reminded her of another time, an island, where his desire had overruled what he knew to be Aslan's will; an island of golden water, instead of a sea of white. But the strength of desire and headstrong determination was the same. She listened as he spoke.

"_Friends," said Caspian, "we have now fulfilled the quest on which you embarked. The seen lords are all accounted for and as Sir Reepicheep has sworn never to return, when you reach Ramandu's Land you will doubtless find the Lords Revilian and Argoz and Mavramorn awake. To you, my Lord Drinian, I entrust this ship, bidding you sail to Narnia with all the speed you may, and above all not to land on the Island of Deathwater. And instruct my regent, the Dwarf Trumpkin, to give to all these, my shipmates, the rewards I promised them. They have been earned well. And if I come not again it is my will that the Regent, and Master Cornelius, and Trufflehunter the Badger, and the Lord Drinian choose a King of Narnia with the consent-"_

"_But, Sire," interrupted Drinian, "are you abdicating?"_

"_I am going with Reepicheep to see the World's End," said Caspian_. No, thought Lucy. She knew the desire in Caspian's eyes now; the desire to go on. The desire to stay in the sea and see what had not been seen before. The desire to be with them, her and her brother, legends from a former time, and creating a legend together. It was everything he had desired since he was a child, she knew.

But it was not enough to justify Caspian leaving Narnia. Leaving the charge Aslan had laid on him, till Aslan Himself released him.

"_We will take the boat," said Caspain. "You will have no need of it in these gentle seas and you must build a new one in Ramandu's island. And now-"_

"_Caspian," said Edmund suddenly sand sternly, "you can't do this." _

"_Most certainly," said Reepicheep, "his Majesty cannot."_

"_No indeed," said Drinian._

"_Can't?" said Caspian sharply, looking for a moment not unlike his uncle Miraz._

"_Begging your Majesty's pardon," said Rynelf from the deck below, "but if one of us did the same it would be called deserting." _

"_You presume too much on your long service, Rynelf," said Caspian._

"_No, Sire! He's perfectly right," said Drinian._

"_By the Mane of Aslan," said Caspian, "I had thought you were all my subjects here, not my schoolmasters."_

"_I'm not," said Edmund, "and I say you can __not__ do this."_

"_Can't again," said Caspian. "What do you mean?"_

"_If it please your Majesty, we mean __shall not__," said Reepicheep with a very low bow. "You are the King of Narnia. You break faith with all your subjects, and especially with Trumpkin, if you do not return. You shall not please yourself with adventures as if you were a private person. And if your Majesty will not hear reason it will be the truest loyalty of every man on board to follow me in disarming and binding you till you come to your senses."_

"_Quite right," said Edmund. "Like they did with Ulysses when he wanted to go near the Sirens."_

_Caspian's hand had gone to his sword hilt_. Lucy searched for what would reach him, for _can't_ certainly wasn't. What would Susan find? Oh - _"And you've promised Ramandu's daughter to go back."_

_Caspian paused. "Well, yes. There is that," he said. He stood irresolute for a moment and then shouted out to the ship in general._

"_Well have your way. The quest is ended. We all return. Get the boat up again." _We all return. And Lucy's heart ached more, because she knew this was Caspian's other fear, the fear of losing any of his crew-that-had-become family. The fear born of the desire to protect them and keep them. But she also knew he didn't have a choice. They had sworn to leave at least one behind. And Reepicheep spoke for her.

"_Sire, we do not __all__ return. I, as I explained before-"_

"_Silence!" thundered Caspian. "I've been lessoned but I'll not be baited. Will no one silence that Mouse?"_

"_Your Majesty promised," said Reepicheep, "to be good lord to all the Talking Beasts of Narnia."_

"_Talking beasts, yes," said Caspian. "I said nothing about beasts that never stop talking." And he flung down the ladder in a temper and went into the cabin, slamming the door. _

Lucy moved after him, wanting to help, but Edmund's hand on her arm stopped her. "Let him go, Lu," he said quietly. "Just for a bit. Come this way instead." He led her to the side, and leaned against it. Lucy leaned too, aching even at that familiar movement.

"I don't think we'll be staying too much longer," she said quietly.

"I know," said Edmund. "And that's what's hardest for Caspian. What's hardest for any king, or queen."

"Losing the ones who are under you," Lucy agreed softly, remembering.

"Or who are with you," Edmund finished, gentle now that force was no longer needed. "Give him time to learn that, Lu." He looked towards the cabin, the home Caspian had given Lucy when she first came on board. The home she probably wouldn't need much longer; the home that would be Caspian's again. "And may Aslan help him learn it."

Lucy agreed, and waited. For the first time in a long time she remembered she was older than Caspian, more experienced. She was a queen who had come past her time to another, to teach and to help, but she could not give all her lessons to Narnia's current king. Some he had to learn on his own. So they waited.

They _rejoined him a little later_ and _they found him changed; he was white and there were tears in his eyes._

"_It's no good," he said. "I might as well have behaved decently for all the good I did with my temper and swagger. Aslan has spoken to me. No - I don't mean he was actually here. He wouldn't fit into the cabin, for one thing. But that gold lion's head on the wall came to life and spoke to me. It was terrible - his eyes. Not that he was at all rough with me - only a bit stern at first. But it was terrible all the same. And he said - he said - oh, I can't bear it. The worst thing he could have said. You're to go on - Reep and Edmund, and Lucy, and Eustace; and I'm to go back. Alone. And at once. And what __is__ the good of anything?"_

"_Caspian, dear," said Lucy_, her own pain lessened by her aching for Caspian's. _"You knew we'd have to go back to our own world sooner or later."_

"_Yes," said Caspian with a sob, _and Lucy suddenly saw the little boy again, wondering if he would be sufficient to be a king, leaning on his friends, _"but this is sooner."_

But it was Aslan's will, and to be done at once. Caspian gave them all he could of stores and water though they needed neither in that strong sea; but Lucy knew it eased his grief a little, to be generous. The boat was lowered - the sailors wept as they lowered it - and the three children and the Mouse climbed in. Lucy herself was holding back tears, and she did not look at her cousin or brother, so if they were weeping she did not know it. The last thing lowered was Reepicheep's coracle, and the two boys pulled it on board the little boat. _The _Dawn Treader _flew all her flags and hung out her shields to honour their departure. Tall and big and homelike she looked from their low position with the lilies all round them. And before she was out of sight they saw her turn and begin rowing slowly westward. Yet though Lucy shed a few tears _as she realised that home was gone_, she could not feel it as much as you might have expected. _There was something calling her still ahead. And _the light, the silence, the tingling smell of the Silver Sea, even (in some odd way) the loneliness itself, were too exciting._

They neither ate nor slept, not for the rest of that day or the ones that followed; for a full night and day they drifted on the current, _and when the third day dawned - with a brightness you or I could not bear even if we had dark glasses on - they saw a wonder ahead. It was as if a wall stood up between them and the sky, a greenish-grey, trembling, shimmering wall. Then up came the sun, and at its first rising they saw it through the wall and it turned into wonderful rainbow colours. Then they knew that the wall was really a long, tall wave - a wave endlessly fixed in one place as you may often see at the edge of a waterfall. It seemed to be about thirty feet high, and the current was gliding them swiftly towards it. _

Lucy never thought of the danger; nor did her companions. For they could see through the water to what was beyond it, a _range of mountains_, _warm and green and full of forests and waterfalls however high you looked. And suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of the wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round them. It lasted only a second or so but what it brought them in that second none of those three children will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound. _

_No one in the boat doubted that they were seeing beyond the End of the World into Aslan's country._

_At that moment, with a crunch, the boat ran aground. The water was too shallow now for it. "This," said Reepicheep, "is where I go on alone."_

_They did not try to stop him, for everything now felt as if it had been fated or had happened before. They helped him to lower his little coracle. Then he took off his sword ("I shall need it no more," he said) and flung it far away across the lilied sea. Where it fell it stood upright with the hilt above the surface. Then he bade them goodbye, trying to be sad for their sakes; but he was quivering with happiness. Lucy, for the first and last time, did what she had always wanted to do, taking him in her arms and caressing him. Then hastily he got into his coracle and took his paddle, and the current caught it and away he went, very black against the lilies. But no lilies grew on the wave; it was a smooth green slope. The coracle went more and more quickly, and beautifully it rushed up the wave's side. For one split second they saw its shape and Reepicheep's on the very top. Then it vanished,_ and Lucy knew it went to the mountains beyond that wall, and that Reep had found what he desired most. He was home and he would never leave.

_As the sun rose the sight of those mountains outside the world faded away. The wave remained but there was only blue sky behind it. _

_The children got out of the boat and waded - not towards the wave but southward with the wall of water on their left. They could not have told you why they did this; it was their fate. And though they had felt - and been - very grown-up on the _Dawn Treader_, they now felt just the opposite and held hands as they waded through the lilies. They never felt tired. THe water was warm and all the time it got shallower. At last they were on dry sand, and then on grass - a huge plain of very fine short grass, almost level with the Silver Sea and spreading in every direction without so much as a molehill._

_And of course, as it always does in a perfectly flat place without trees, it looked as if the sky came down to meet the grass in front of them. But as they went on they got the strangest impression that here at last the sky did really come down and join the earth - a blue wall, very bright, but real and solid: more like glass than anything else. And soon they were quite sure of it. It was very near now. _

_But between them and the foot of the sky there was something so white on the green grass that even with their eagles' eyes they could hardly look at it. They came on and saw that it was a Lamb._

"_Come and have breakfast," said the Lamb in its sweet milky voice. _

_Then they noticed for the first time that there was a fire lit on the grass and fish roasting on it. They sat down and ate the fish, hungry now for the first time in many days. And it was the most delicious food they had ever tasted. _Lucy, finishing her fish, felt her curiosity stirring.

"_Please, Lamb," said Lucy, "is this the way to Aslan's country?"_

"_Not for you," said the Lamb. "For you the door into Aslan's country is in your own world."_

"_What!" said Edmund, _and Lucy echoed him. _"Is there a way into Aslan's country from our world too?"_

"_There is a way into my country from all the worlds," said the Lamb; but as he spoke his snowy white flushed into tawny gold and his size changed and he was Aslan himself, towering above them and scattering light from his mane._

"_Oh, Aslan," said Lucy. Will you tell us how to get into your country from our world?" _Because this, this was what she wanted more than anything; more than home, than Narnia, more time on the _Dawn Treader_. His country was home, because He was there.

"_I shall be telling you all the time," said Aslan. "But I will not tell you how long or short the way will be; only that it lies across a river. But do not fear that, for I am the great Bridge Builder. And now come; I will open the door in the sky and send you to your own land."_ And Lucy remembered Aunt Alberta, and Uncle Harold, and most of all the absence of Aslan, and her heart sank.

"_Please, Aslan," said Lucy. "Before we go, will you tell us when we can come back to Narnia again?" Please. And oh, do, do, do make it soon."_

"_Dearest," said Aslan very gently, "you and your brother will never come back to Narnia."_

"_Oh, __Aslan__!" said Edmund and Lucy both together in despairing voices. _

"_You are too old, children," said Aslan, "and you must begin to come close to your own world now."_

"_It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's __you__. We shan't meet __you__ there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"_

"_But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan._

"_Are - are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund._

"_I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know be better there."_

That promise Lucy could hold to, she realised. If she had Aslan, no matter the world, she would be home.

All she had to do was find Him there.

But while she and Edmund might be strong enough for that, she realised, she wasn't sure Eustace was.

"_And is Eustace never to come back here either?" said Lucy._

"_Child," said Aslan, "do you really need to know that?" _No, Lucy supposed, because that was someone else's story. And Eustace was definitely Aslan's now; she could see it in the way Eustace couldn't look away from Him. Aslan would tell Eustace his own story in the best way possible; for now, he was ending Lucy and Edmund's in Narnia. _"Come, I am opening the door in the sky." Then all in one moment there was a rending of the blue wall (like a curtain being torn) and a terrible white light from beyond the sky, and the feel of Aslan's mane and a Lion's kiss on their foreheads and then - the back bedroom in Aunt Alberta's home in Cambridge. _

When Lucy opened her eyes the first thing she saw was the painting, the _Dawn Treader_ miniaturized, and for one moment in her mind she could see _Caspian and his men all _coming _safely to Ramandu's Island. And the three lords woke from their sleep. Caspian married Ramandu's daughter and they all reached Narnia in the end_. And she drew a breath, thanking Aslan for letting her know the end of that particular story, and for showing her the _Dawn Treader_ reaching the home it had come from.

"Eustace!" came a prim, pruney voice from downstairs, and Lucy and the two boys looked towards the door.

The _Dawn Treader_ was home, Lucy knew, but now that she and Edmund couldn't go back, where were they to find home?

And why, she wondered as she heard that unhappy voice calling once again, did Aslan send them back to England?

OOOOO

A/N: There should be one more chapter, born mainly out of a few ideas I had and some points brought up by Ibersteinmm, that hopefully gives a further glimpse into the effects of Lucy's new home.


	24. 24: Epilogue

Disclaimer: Despite going farther than Lewis did with this story (until his later books), it is still _his_ story.

**Chapter Twenty-Four: Eustace Clarence Scrubb, who no longer deserved it.  
****But he **_**does**_** deserve a home. **

Not just them, Lucy saw very quickly, but Eustace as well, needed a home. She could almost feel sorry for Aunt Alberta-Alberta. Uncle Harold (wait, just Harold), too, she thought, flicking her eyes across the table to her uncle flicking his salad about his plate. Only he was generally so glad to be miserable she felt a little less sorry for him. It had taken all her skill as a queen to see the true concern beneath, the worried lip and twitching mustache. It was there, however. To the two adults, Eustace Clarence Scrubb the bully (and their special child) went upstairs one afternoon and came down perhaps two hours later Eustace the un-Dragoned, Caspian's Companion, true friend of Narnia and Aslan's own (1). They didn't understand it at all.

Eustace was struggling with it too. There were habits he had while at home, habits of slinking and smirking and eavesdropping. But he had habits from Narnia as well, ways he spoke with Lucy and Edmund. He asked questions because he was truly curious now. Not sneering ones, or condescending ones, and it horrified his mother. She reprimanded him, telling him to go look it up in a book, and not ask..._normal_ people. "After all, Eustace, there is a chance they could be wrong. In this house we ask the _authorities_." Funnily enough, he had been asking Edmund a question on law…

Only it wasn't really funny. Lucy knew it wasn't. There had been times right after his transformation Eustace had been frustrated, times when he'd lost his temper, but this was the first time Lucy had seen him look uncertain. Sometimes when his mother scolded him he'd get this lost look on his face. Lucy asked him about it.

"I was thinking of Reep," Eustace told her. The three of them were sitting on Lucy's bed, Eustace in the middle. They still had weeks left before they left for their parents' home…

"I mean, he always stood up for what was right-"

"Like a knight of Narnia should," Edmund added, listening carefully.

"Right. But he always honored authority!" Eustace burst out. "And I don't know what to do about my mother!"

"She's in authority over you, but she's wrong," Lucy said softly. She now understood his problem; but it caused a fleeting joy in her to remember how Eustace and Reep's relationship started, and where it ended; from swinging him by his tail to looking to his example.

"So what do I do?" A whine crept into his voice, and Eustace straightened, hearing it. "I mean, what would you two do?"

Lucy and Edmund looked at each other; Lucy tilted her head, indicating Edmund should answer.

"You're still in their house, which means abiding by their rules," Edmund said. "I'm not saying it will be easy," he added hastily, as Eustace's shoulders slumped. "But Eustace, some of the hardest things we do turn out to be the best things. Remember attacking the Sea Serpent?" Eustace nodded, making a face. It would never be his favorite memory, Lucy knew. "Well, that was hard, but it made a difference, didn't it? With the crew, and Caspian, and everyone?"

"They slapped me on the back and Reep told me I'd done, what was it, 'a valorous deed,'" Eustace said slowly.

"Right. It made a difference. Here, in your house, you have to do the same thing. Only it's a much harder, much longer task."

"Honoring those Aslan sets over you," Lucy added quietly. She slipped her hand into Eustace's, comforting him.

"But you all have been here, and you haven't made a difference," Eustace objected.

"They don't love us like they love you," Lucy told him. "It won't be easy, Eustace. But that's part of the reason we're here."

And it was. Lucy saw it, over and over, as they spent those first few weeks in their aunt and uncle's house. They'd meet in Lucy's room every night, Eustace asking questions about what it was like to be a Narnian in England. But it was during the days, too, when Lucy would try to distract Aunt Alberta from her scolding. ("Would you mind me asking a question about vegetarianism, Aunt-Alberta?" "Au-Alberta, what's a teetotallers?" Sometimes Lucy was glad she was so young, and could get away with those questions. And could also interrupt lectures on the evils of imported meat, slaughtered meat, town-bred meat, or any kind of meat.) Edmund helped by asking about advice on schools, or asking about the newest articles that had come out on one subject or another; something a boy could be expected to know. And both tried to engage Eustace in intelligent conversation, to show his mother that he hadn't lost the intelligence she prized, only the personality everyone else hated.

It didn't work.

Not with their aunt, at least. But Lucy was very, very glad to see the worry in Uncle Harold's eyes begin to lighten as two weeks passed (2). Edmund had been talking to him, once or twice, and she saw Uncle Harold begin to talk to Eustace more as well.

It was something to hold on to, in a house with an unhappy aunt.

And then, at the end of two weeks, another something came.

A letter, eight pages long and scribbled on both sides. From Peter. It had the professor's greetings and what Peter was studying, and lots and lots of encouragement, and demands to know more about their trip to Narnia. (Edmund had managed to make a short call to the professor's house to give a very few details, and had sent a wire to Susan overseas. (3)) It held good advice for Eustace as well, and a High King's welcome, and Lucy smiled even larger as she watched Eustace realise he had been brought (by Aslan) into a circle that would hold him and encourage him for the rest of his life.

They read the letter together twice, and then talked it over, and Lucy and Edmund spilled all the reminences it had brought up, and agreed to write back to Peter the next day, and make sure their own letter was at least twice as long as his. ("I'll post it," Edmund said with a grin, "unless you think Uncle Harold would enjoy complaining about its weight?") The boys went to bed soon after, leaving the letter in Lucy's hands.

She smoothed the creases, then carefully folded it back up, putting it in its envelope. She ran her fingers over the dry black ink on the front, a student's ink, and blinked away tears. Peter. He'd kept his promise to write.

And it felt like home, she realised suddenly. His letter; it's why she didn't want to let it go, why it made her smile and hold tears in her eyes at the same time. His letter was as much home, here in England, as the _Dawn Treader_ was in Narnia. His letter, and Edmund's flashing-forth grin, and even Eustace's practical scientific mind, and Susan's gentle ministrations and spirit. They were home as much as Narnia was; almost more.

Partly because they were her siblings, she supposed, sitting back down on the bed and looking at the letter she'd left on the desk. But it was more than that, because it included the Professor and Eustace, and probably the lady they really wanted to meet someday that the Professor called "Polly."

Why, it was people who had met Aslan. Or rather, people who _were_ Aslan's. It's what bound the crew of the _Dawn Treader_ together, what made Narnia a country _and _a family; it was that they were all Aslan's.

And as long as she had those people, wherever she ended up, she would be with family. And that meant she would be home.

She smiled as she blew out her candle and huddled under the blankets, suddenly as comfortable there as she had been in her cabin.

But while _she_ had found her home, she thought the next day, Eustace hadn't. Because Eustace only got them for a little while, and then they would be leaving. And so, when Aunt Alberta wanted to take Eustace, and _only_ Eustace, to the latest meeting on something-or-other, and Uncle Harold was off at work, Lucy sat down to talk to Edmund, explaining what she'd realised the night before.

"But what is Eustace going to do when we leave? He _won't_ be with people who are Aslan's. And he's going back to that aweful school he told us about, where he'll have to stand up to bullies and all sorts of things."

"He's had a great deal of practice standing up to things by now, Lu," Edmund pointed out dryly. "And it might actually be helpful."

"Helpful? Oh, I suppose so. It'll make his courage stable, train him. But Ed, he's going to be all alone." Lucy knew she needn't _really _worry. Eustace was Aslan's now, after all. But she wondered if there was something they were supposed to do, to help. She just couldn't think what it was.

"That's partly why we're back, I'm sure, Lu. Because Eustace needs us. And Aslan will show us how to help." Edmund looked at her and added gently, "I've been trying to ask, but couldn't-how are you doing?" His eyes were the eyes of a king and brother; as much home as Peter's letter, and Lucy smiled, seeing her own smile ease the care on his face, but clarified his question anyway.

"Knowing we can't go back?"

Edmund nodded. "I haven't wanted to bring it up with Eustace around. He's got enough to think about."

Lucy looked at the floor, looking for words. "He _promised_ He's in this world. He promised, Edmund. We have to find Him.

"And we'll look. I promise." Edmund paused. "It's not so bad, is it? Being back here, as long as we have Him to find in this world." Lucy nodded, leaning against Edmund's shoulder. "He's home, as much as we are. And He's here, Lu. You know He's never broken His promise."

Lucy nodded again, and looked up at her big brother. "Find him together?" she asked quietly.

"Together," Edmund promised, the Just to the Valiant, a word not to be broken. "With Peter and Susan, too. They might even be further ahead than we are." They both looked towards the door as footsteps sounded on the path through the open windows. "Looks like blood family is back," he added wryly.

The rest of the visit passed quickly, but Lucy still wondered about leaving Eustace alone, once their visit was up. He grew stronger - especially as Aunt Alberta tried to keep him away from them as much as possible - but Lucy knew it would be very lonely when they left, and she tried to think of ways she could help him. She came up with one way, and put her plan into action, but as the two of them pulled away in the train car, waving through the glass window, she pondered it one more time. Edmund must have seen her face, because she felt his arm drawing her close.

"Don't think about it too much, Lu," he said firmly. "He's in Aslan's paws, isn't he? Besides, I'm kind of curious about his next adventure." Lucy twisted away from the window to look up at him; Edmund was smiling, and he had that look on his face that meant he'd thought of something particularly brilliant.

"You mean, you think he'll go back? What's curious about it?" she asked.

"Because, so far, Aslan has always sent people to Narnia in at least pairs. And if the four of us can't go back - and I don't imagine the Professor or Miss Polly can either - I can't wait to hear who ends up going with him." He smiled down at her. "Which means he won't be alone, Lu. And aren't you looking forward to meeting another English Narnian?" (4)

Lucy felt her smile grow larger, imagining. "I wonder what he'll be like? Or do you think it's going to be a girl?"

Only one more part of this story needs to be told, a part with another letter. Lucy left it (her plan put in motion), slipping back upstairs right before they left, when the bags were going in the motorcar, leaving it on his pillow. He came up that night, discouraged-dinner had been a trying affair, his mother expecting him to "revert to normal, Eustace, now that your tiresome, troublesome cousins" (King and Queen, Eustace thought rebelliously, not that _you'd_ know that) "are gone. And stop picking at your dinner." Eustace thought of the sumptuous feast at Aslan's table and disagreed with the word _dinner_.

So when he sat on his bed and a piece of paper rustled, slipping off the pillow as the bed bent under his weight, and he picked it up and saw Lucy's swirling calligraphy, he suddenly clutched the edges rather tightly.

_Dear Eustace_, the letter began,  
_Sometimes in Narnia I went to places by myself, and the first night was always the hardest. The first time it happened was the worst. But Susan knew something of those nights herself, and slipped a letter into my clothing; the servants found it when they unpacked and put it on my bed. I haven't any servants to send it with, so I'm putting it on your bed myself.  
__It's not going to be easy. Being a Narnian in England never is; Peter says that. But he says it's worth it to be Aslan's, wherever we are, and after being in Aslan's country I agree, don't you? I think you should remember that, when it gets really hard. Remember.  
__Suddenly there came a breeze from the east, tossing the top of that wave into foamy shapes and ruffling the smooth water all round. It lasted only a second or so, remember? But what it brought us in that second none of us three will ever forget. It brought both a smell and a sound, a musical sound (5). Do you remember it? It would break your heart, though it was not sad. Remember that.  
__Do write if you need anything,  
__Your cousin (Queen) Lucy_

_P.S. And if you don't write, we'll write you anyway. Aslan's own weren't meant to be alone. To be near them is a little bit of home in this world. _

Eustace smoothed the creases his clutching hands had bent, and even smiled. His cousin had a gift for encouragement, even in England. He suddenly wondered what his gift was, and if he'd need it, if he went back to Narnia. After all, Aslan had never said _he_ couldn't go back…

OOOOO

(1) Credit where credit is due: Ibersteinmm intelligently drew my attention the fact that Edmund's change had a whole summer to explain it, a new scene, and time with his siblings; Eustace only had a few hours. Thank you.  
(2) The end of the book says only Aunt Alberta was unhappy with what Eustace became, so I took the liberty of inferring that maybe Uncle Harold wasn't; one of those people who must be up-to-date, but who aren't actually glad their children are snobs. He'd still be a miserable host, though maybe a better parent.  
(3) The idea of Edmund phoning Peter, I realised after writing it, came from elecktrum's incredible story "When We Were Kings," and my deepest apologies for not asking permission first; I wasn't quite aware why I was so certain Edmund phoned Peter, but I think it's because I'd accepted that as absolutely _true_ to who they were and what happened at this time.  
(4) I do think that was deliberate on Lewis's part; someone pointed out that Biblical missionaries were sent in pairs as well, almost every time; and I think it has a lot to do with sharing the workload, and it not being good for us to be alone. Not that Eustace would know any of that at this point, but his point is still valid, isn't it?  
(5) This paragraph (up to this point) is an almost-exact quote from the book.

A/N: But guys, I don't _want_ this to be the last chapter. I liked this story. Well, that's because it's Lewis's, but still. A part of me wonders, after I clear out my prompts list, if I should do something with the other books, like _The Horse and His Boy_ from Hwin's perspective; the Tarkhaan's stable (with Bree right beside her, snorting in indignation and complaining about the oats) would be most amusing to write...you know what, I have more than enough for right now. I should really focus on that.

A/N2: I did want to thank three readers, ILoveCheetos but IAMTIMELESS, Ibersteinmm, and Anonymousme, who reviewed consistently, or who gave input for the story. I only really review if I am something to say, so I never mind if people don't review, but it is very, very encouraging to hear from people. It makes me smile every time, and I wanted to thank these three who encouraged this story so often. Thank you!


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